


a sense of completion

by caravanslost



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Footy Ficathon, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravanslost/pseuds/caravanslost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates AU where 24 hours before a person meets their soulmate, a time-mark starts ticking down on their wrist. It hits zero when they meet. Toni is a senior editor at a successful magazine. James is a nurse. Their time-marks have appeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The time-mark

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for the Footy Ficathon (and bless the Footy Ficathon because I honest to god haven't ever written this much fic this consistently in my life). 
> 
> I've never written soulmates AU before but I've always wanted to - so here we are. This fic will be multi-chaptered.I hope you enjoy it :3
> 
> [As ever, neither Toni Kroos nor James Rodriguez nor any of the others belong to me. This is probably for the best.]

Toni didn’t notice the time-mark on his wrist for a whole hour.

The day, a Monday, had started as the most nondescript of its kind, the sort that bleeds into the Sunday before and the Tuesday after in a person’s memory. Toni had woken up at half past seven, as he always did. He showered, drove to work, and ordered the same coffee from the same barista at the same coffee shop he visited every weekday morning. He had arrived at the Monday morning editorial meeting with his mind already on Friday’s deadlines.

It was a slower meeting than normal. Cris had given the editorial team a rundown of the theme for the next issue, and he had opened the floor for ideas. Toni had been nursing a few thoughts since the weekend that he wanted to throw out to the others, and he briefly glanced at his wrist-watch as he waited for Gareth to finish speaking.

It was then that he noticed the row of bold numbers on the pale skin of his left wrist, glowing in a bright cyan hue, ticking down. And when he noticed them, anxiety fell on his chest like an anvil. 

[22:59]

Toni stared at them for a long moment, shock numbing every thought before it had a chance to fully form in his mind. His foresight collapsed from Friday afternoon to Tuesday morning, and the remaining twenty-two hours that would precede it. Meanwhile, the meeting continued around him. He glanced around briefly to make sure that no one else had noticed. They hadn’t.

Toni closed his eyes for a few seconds, reached for his glass of water, and forced himself to take a sip, and then another. Discreetly, he took a deep breath in, and breathed out, and looked at his wrist again. The numbers glowed back at him, just as they had before, real as anything and anyone else in the room.

[22:58]

With the realization that the time-mark was there, that _oh god,_ _this is happening_ , a rush of nausea stormed over Toni. He drained the rest of the water in his glass, poured it full again, and wondered why the universe had chosen now, this board meeting, of all times.

Toni pulled the cuff of his shirt up his wrist, as far as it would go, to cover the time-mark, and he turned his attention back to Cris. _Focus_ , he told himself. _Focus, focus, focus. Don’t think about it._ He uncapped his pen and began taking down notes. _Focus_. He managed only five minutes of concentration at a time, at the very most, before his thoughts strayed back to the time-mark, its irreversible ticking, and every unknown thing it stood for.

He eventually gave up, gave in, and with his hands under the table, he pulled the cuff of his shirt a little way back down. He stared at the numbers, which glowed a little brighter in the darkness, and he grazed the pad of his thumb over them. He felt only skin and the frantic _thudthudthud_ of his pulse.

[22:40]

The meeting dragged on, slow as molasses, until Cris finally called it to a close, thanking everyone for their work and ideas. Toni forced himself to remain behind for a few minutes, to run over a few things with Gareth, to talk to Chicha about article layout, to behave as though the tectonic plates of his life hadn’t just shifted in meeting room 3. 

They had shifted because he was 30, and he had resigned himself to being alone, and he had convinced himself that he was going to be okay, even if his time-mark never appeared.

_But it’s happening_.

Eventually, the impromptu meeting after the proper meeting finished. Toni excused himself, made his way back to his office, and told his secretary that no one was to disturb him under any circumstances at all. Once inside, Toni shed his blazer, tossed it onto the nearest chair, and stood for a moment in the middle of the room. He looked at his wrist again.

[22:25]

He sat at his desk and tried to calm himself down. That, more than anything, bothered Toni the most. His nerves were normally steel, and they needed just as much heat before they would soften. Calming himself down wasn’t something that Toni often had to do.

He undid the button on his left cuff and pushed the sleeve all the way up to his elbow. The numbers were still there, and he leaned back in his chair and studied them.

[22:23]

Toni sat for a long time, watching spent seconds turn into spent minutes. He studied the numbers and marvelled at the fact that they were there, _finally_ , ticking down without any awareness of their significance, or how their quiet appearance had turned his day, his life, on its head. Intermittently, his phone rang and his computer signalled for his attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, or to look away.

Because there was someone else whose wrist had also come to life, to whom his time-mark was ticking down, and whose time-mark was ticking down to him. His soulmate.  

_Soulmate_.

Toni turned the word over in his mind like he had never heard it before, because now it applied to him and it suddenly had _meaning_. He wondered who they were, and where they were, and what they were doing, and whether they had noticed the numbers on their wrist by now. Toni wondered whether they would be the type to spend the next twenty-two hours staring at their wrist, or whether they would look away and get on with their day.

[22:19] 

A firm knock on the door startled Toni out of his thoughts, and it opened before he could say anything. He quickly re-buttoned the cuff of his shirt and turned in time to see Cris appear in his doorway.

“Morning, Toni. Can I come in?”

“Hey. Take a seat.”

“Thanks.” Cris replied, relaxing into one of the enormous chairs in front of Toni’s desk. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, and eyed Toni with that dark, impenetrable gaze of his, the one that divulged no clues as to what he was thinking. “How are things?”

“Things are good. Thanks. How are things with you?”

“I’m fine.” Cris replied, his fingers drumming gently on the arms of his chair. “But are you sure about you?”

“Of course.”

“Because you seemed to take an unusual interest in your wrist during the meeting.”

Toni didn’t answer back immediately.

“What are my chances,” he replied eventually, slowly, “of convincing you that I was looking at a rash of some description?”

“It’d have to be one hell of a rash, if you told your secretary that you didn’t want anyone disturbing you.” Cris replied, his expression softening. “Your time-mark appeared, didn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Did it start in the middle of the meeting?”

Toni shook his head. “I think it must have started a little earlier. I only noticed it in the meeting.”

“I guess congratulations are in order. And maybe a day off, or two.”

“I won’t be needing a day off.”

“And normally, those words would be music to my ears.” Cris replied, “But I’m telling you to take the rest of the day off. I think you should take tomorrow off as well. You’re probably going to need it.”

“I’ve got a lot to do, Cris.”

“This isn’t a suggestion, Toni. How are you handling it?”

“I’m — handling it.”

After a long pause, Cris said, “Look, Toni — I know you’re a pretty private person, and I respect that. But this is a big deal. If you need anything that we – I – anyone here – can help out with, just sing out, okay?” 

“I appreciate it. Thanks.”

“How much time have you got left?”

“A little over twenty-two hours.”

* * *

 [24:00] 

[23:59] 

James was in the middle of washing his hands when the bold cyan numbers appeared. One moment, he was contemplating the morning’s patient list, and the next moment, he wasn’t. He froze when he noticed the time-mark, the hot water steaming over his hands and down his wrist, coursing over it. Without thinking, he ran the soapy pad of his thumb over it and rubbed, as though checking to see whether he could rub it off.

When it didn’t disappear, his heart sank.

It sank because twenty-four hours meant half past eight on Tuesday morning.  Half past eight on Tuesday morning meant that he would be working a shift when the time-mark zeroed. Working a shift meant that the only people he was likely to encounter would be patients.

_Okay. Calm down. Breathe._

James turned on the cold tap and splashed water on his face. He reached for a fresh towel and pressed the comfortless hospital cotton to his skin for a few moments. He took one final look at his wrist.

[23:55]

Then he took a deep breath, and he went to work. And he worked. He worked so hard he didn’t have time to think. He moved from task to task, patient to patient, duty to duty with all the diligence of someone avoiding something very important. He continued to catch unintentional glimpses of his wrist, when he was bandaging or flipping open charts, but he pushed down the anxiety that flared whenever he saw the time-mark.

At lunchtime, he disappeared upstairs to the roof, because if staring out at the city skyline couldn’t distract him, nothing would.

It didn’t. He kept looking down.

[20:49]

[20:48]

[20: 47]

The door to the stairwell opened and closed, and James heard the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. Iker appeared at his side and sat down, white coat over his operating scrubs. He held out a bag of gummy snakes and James took one, even though he didn’t feel particularly hungry.

“Are you ever gonna cut this crap out of your diet?” James asked, breaking the silence. 

Iker shrugged. “It was either the sugar or the cigarettes.”

“Or both. Both is also a valid option.”

“Not if you’re mortal.”

James twisted and untwisted the candy around his index finger.

“Okay, kid. What’s wrong?” Iker asked. 

“Nothing.”

“No, something.”

“This is literally the first time you’ve seen me today.”                                                   

“True.” Iker conceded. “But everyone else has seen you. General consensus in the staff room is that something’s wrong. Apparently, you haven’t even smiled once the whole day.”

“Nobody smiles around here.” James pointed out. 

“Yeah, except you. So when you don’t, people notice. I can’t have you walking around looking like a wounded puppy, James. It’s not good for morale.” And after a long pause, he added, “by which I mean that people care about you, kid. And they’re worried.”

James ate his gummy snake and reached into Iker’s bag for another in lieu of answering him.

“You’re also wearing short-sleeved scrubs,” Iker pressed gently, “and your wrist hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention. Do you want to talk about it?”

James turned his wrist around so that Iker could see the bright numbers.

“I’m nervous. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Iker’s hand found James’ shoulder and squeezed gently. “But why? Be happy, kid. Some people never see a time-mark. This is a blessing.”

“Is it, though? If it started at eight thirty this morning – and it did, I noticed it as soon as it happened – then it finishes at eight thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll be working then. What kind of place is this, to meet a soulmate?”

“Soulmates meet in all sorts of places.”

“Yeah, but the hospital? What if it’s a patient, Iker? What am I going to do?”

“So what if it’s a patient?”

James paused for a moment, and wondered how to articulate the scenarios that had been lurking at the back of his mind since the morning.

“I mean … what if they come in because of a heart attack, or a gunshot wound? What if they need to go into theatre and they die on the operating table? What if my soulmate comes in and I only get a few hours or a few days with them before they die?” 

Iker shrugged. “There’s no easy answer to that. If that’s how it’s going to be, then that’s how it’s going to be. All your hoping and wishing won’t do a thing to stop it.  But the point is that you don’t _know_.”

“Exactly. So it might be like that.” 

“Or, it might not. Christ, James. I never took you for a pessimist.”

James rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not. I swear, I’m not. You know that. I just – I keep trying to tell myself that it might still be okay, but I’m not convincing myself.”

“Come on, James. This is supposed to be a happy time. Whether they’re injured or healthy, broken or whole, you’re going to meet your soulmate. You can’t let yourself worry about losing them before you even know who they are. I mean, for god’s sake, it might — “

Iker was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his duty phone. He answered, talked quickly for a few moments, and then stood up. 

“Okay, look – I have to go. They need me downstairs. What are you doing tonight?”

“At home, I guess.”

“Come over to mine, okay? We’ll make you dinner and see if we can cheer you up.”

“I wouldn’t want to —"

“— we’ll see you at seven. Be there on the dot. You know how Sergio gets when I don’t feed him on time.” Iker interrupted, calling out the instructions on his way back to the stairwell.

The door closed behind him and James, alone again, ran his fingers over the time-mark. He looked out at the city skyline and thought about minutes, and hours, and the fact that he was no longer really alone.

* * *

Toni paused outside his office building. He had never left work at eleven in the morning before.  He started walking to Sami’s office before he even realized his feet were taking him there. It was close and Sami was easy to talk to, as good at offering distractions as he was advice. Toni wasn’t yet sure which of the two he needed. He had never turned up at Sami’s office unannounced before either, _but hey_ , he told himself, walking the four blocks against the howling wind, _today’s apparently a day for firsts_.

Sami’s office was on the third floor of a Victorian-style building, and it was all dark wood, ornate staircases, and fancy banisters. Toni had always preferred the colours and character of Sami’s building to the white minimalism of his own. He felt a little bit of peace just stepping into the foyer.

Sami’s secretary, Erik, greeted him with a warm, pink-cheeked smile.

“Good morning Mr Kroos.”

“Good morning, Erik. Is Sami busy today?”

“I don’t think so, but I can check with him quickly, if you like?”

“If you could, please.”

Erik went into Sami’s office and Toni hovered in front of his desk, watching him go.

Sami always made a point of asking Toni whether he would visit as often if he replaced Erik with someone else. And although Toni denied it — because he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it — he knew that it stung because an element of truth was buried somewhere in the mockery. Erik had light, honeyed eyes and a kind smile, the kind that Toni wouldn’t have minded seeing outside the confines of Sami’s office. And Sami knew it too.

But not everyone warmed to the idea of a relationship that wasn’t pre-ordained by a time-mark. Toni didn’t have the nerve to find out how Erik felt about the matter.

And Sami would probably kill him anyway, so he never bothered to find out.

“He’s not busy.” Erik called out to him, re-emerging from Sami’s office. “I’ve let him know you’re here. He’ll see you now.”

“Thanks, Erik.”

Toni walked in to Sami’s office, closed the door behind him, and leaned back against it. Sami was at his desk, clearly surprised to see him.

“Toni. Hey.”

“Sami, I need a drink.” Toni declared. “Now. And something strong.”

“You do realize it’s not even midday, right?”

Toni pulled his sleeve up to his elbow, and raised the inside of his wrist for Sami to see. Sami stared at it for a few moments, taken aback, before finally speaking.

“Holy shit. Never mind. I have whiskey.”

“Good.”

“It’s heavy stuff.”

“Even better.”

Toni sat down on one of the large couches in Sami’s office, took off his blazer, and loosened his tie. He accepted the glass of amber liquid that Sami handed him and clinked it humorlessly against the other glass. A small sip burned its way down his throat and it didn’t make him feel better, but it gave him something else to focus on for a few moments. Sami sat down next to him.

“Okay. Talk to me. How many hours are left?”

“Just over twenty one hours.” 

“And how are you feeling?”

Several answers came to the forefront of Toni’s mind, like _shit-scared_ or _in denial_ , or _nervous_ or _confused_. Eventually, he settled on a different one.

“Bitter.”

After a long pause, Sami responded. “Not the answer I was expecting, but continue.” 

“Bitter. Yeah, that’s it. Bitter.” 

“Because?”

“Because I already have a life.”

“Are you happy, though?” Sami interjected.

“I thought I was.” Toni shrugged, his frustration mounting. “I mean, I am. I have an amazing family. I have good friends. I love my job. I make more than enough money. I don’t need – I decided that it was never going to happen to me, and I moved on with my life, and I never felt like anything was missing. And now, _this_.”

“Yeah, but Toni,” Sami reasoned gently, “this is something huge. This is your soulmate.”

“And so what if they are?” [He didn’t mean to snap at Sami. He didn’t. But he knew that Sami would understand.] “What if my soulmate’s a terrible person? What if they’re unkind or unfaithful? What if the best person for me is someone I might actually be better off without?” 

“You’re doing that thing you do, Toni.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you confuse the worst case scenario for the default outcome. Look,” Sami said kindly, “I can’t tell you that this person, whoever they are, is going to be perfect. I can’t tell you this soulmate of yours is going to be an easy person to deal with. No one can. But they’re your soulmate for a reason, whatever it is. You need them, or you will, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“Even if I’ve been doing fine on my own?”

Toni knew he sounded like a defiant 12 year old. He wasn’t proud of the tone of his voice, but this was how he felt. To pretend otherwise would be to lie to Sami, and Sami — who had known him since childhood, who had been there for him through everything — could read him like an open book.

“I know you have. But this person — whoever they are — is going to make you, and things, better. I don’t know how yet, and you might not know as soon as you meet them, but somehow, they will. Just — try to relax, okay? I know you don’t like change, but have a little faith in the universe.”

And Toni thought to himself, _why should I_?

The universe had paired off his friends early on — every single one of them —and Toni had found himself alone, unpaired, aged 20 and in the company of nothing but couples. It had forced him to learn how to be happy for others while battling with anxiety over himself. The universe had broken his parents’ hearts because their eldest would grow up alone. It earned him the endless sympathy of his friends, and forced him to endure pity from people he barely knew at all.

Years passed and Toni’s eyes flicked to his wrist daily, and then between days, and then sometimes, and then not at all. He waited, and waited, and waited, and _waited_. And then he was done with waiting, done with sympathy, done with pity, and he stopped.

So Toni had steeled himself, and worked, and he had _flown_. He was 30 and needed nothing and depended on no one. He had learned to find happiness in himself, his work, his family and his friends, rather than waiting to find it in someone else. And he had found it.

So when Sami asked him to have a little faith in the universe, Toni wasn’t so sure that he could.

* * *

James arrived at Iker’s place fifteen minutes earlier than expected, with a bottle of wine and store-bought cake in his hands. Although he had initially been resistant to Iker’s invitation, Sergio and Iker would be better company than his thoughts. 

Sergio opened the door for him, pelted his cheeks with scratchy, bearded kisses, and pulled him inside to the kitchen where Iker was making lasagne. He set James to helping him chop vegetables for the salad. 

The conversation was light as they worked, and it remained that way when they ate. Only afterwards, when the tea was steeping and they were eating dessert, did the subject of time-marks come up, at Sergio’s behest.

“So, it’s true about your time-mark?” He asked suddenly. “Can I see it?”

Iker directed a scandalised look at him. “Sergio, please, we’re trying to distract the boy for a while.”

“No, it’s okay.” James answered, and he finished off his mouthful before turning the time-mark towards Sergio. Sergio took James’ wrist in his hands and ran a curious finger over the time-mark.

[11:45]

“Not long left now, is there?” He said finally, looking up at James with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better than this morning, I guess? I was feeling a little —  ” and he paused, searching for the right word, “nervous. I think it was mostly just shock.”

“A little bit of a shock is always involved. It takes a bit of time to get your head around the fact that your life’s going to change, even if it is for the better. And then, of course, ‘better’ sometimes doesn’t end up meaning what you think it’s going to mean. That’s okay too.”

Iker caught James’ eye and winked. “See? This is why I brought you here. I don’t know how the hell he comes up with this shit, but sometimes it works.”

Sergio cut himself another slice of cake and began telling James how he and Iker had met. They had been at university, and Sergio was working at a café part-time while he studied. His time-mark had appeared at half past seven on a Sunday morning, so he knew that it would zero during the following morning, a Monday.

When Sergio’s time-mark zeroed, Iker rushed in to the café to buy a hot drink before his final exam, his arms laden with books. His stress was such that he had forgotten about his own time-mark, and failed to realize that it had zeroed when he approached the counter to order.

“I swear to god, James,” Iker interjected,“I couldn’t figure out why the fuck this complete stranger was grinning at me like he knew me.”

James laughed. “Did you at least think he was cute?”

“God no. His hair was bleached.”

Sergio had introduced himself, prepared the cappuccino on the house, and scrawled his name and number on Iker’s paper cup. He also asked about Iker’s exam and where it would be held. When the exam finished, Iker found Sergio waiting outside the lecture theatre for him with another coffee, and another one of those smiles.

“He had been in such a state that morning, you should have seen him.” Sergio explained. “I figured that he might have been so stressed that he would have thrown out his cup. Which, of course, he had _._ ” 

“ _Unintentionally_ ,” Iker insisted. “It’s been fifteen years. Let it _go_.” 

Sergio and Iker told James about their first date and meeting each other’s families. He left their house at eleven with higher spirits and a Tupperware container full of leftovers for lunch the following day. 

That night, James lay in bed and stared at his ceiling for a long while. He thought about Iker and Sergio and how happy they were. Their happiness was infectious, and so was their optimism, and because he was exhausted and his defences were down, he indulged in daydreaming about a happy ending for himself.

He imagined someone with a kind face that made his heart beat in double-time. He imagined a warm voice to distract him from a long day at work, a warm bed waiting for him at the end of the day, and warm arms waiting to wrap themselves around him.

An ache spread across his chest, a hollow _need_ that he normally tried to keep at bay. It coursed through him with such force that it frightened him.

So James shelved his daydreams and returned to his safe, comfortable caution. Caution was easier. Caution was sensible. And so was he. His worries from earlier in the day came back to him, one by one, and they circled in his mind like beads on a rosary until he fell asleep.

* * *

Toni had lunch with Sami and then left him to his work. He spent the rest of the day moving from one activity to another, trying to keep himself busy. He went for a long walk around the city, and then he went to the gym, and then he went back to work at night. He ploughed through a few things that had gathered on his desk since the morning, even though Cris had told him to stay away, because if he was working, then at least it meant that he wasn’t staring at his wrist.

Toni returned to his apartment at midnight, had a shower so hot that it scalded his skin, and went straight to bed. But then he lay awake, studying his ceiling.

[08:00]

His bed was huge and comfortable, the kind that was heaven to climb into at the end of the day, and made for more than a single body. It suddenly struck Toni that soon, someone else might be in it with him. He had a habit of sleeping in the middle of the bed, but maybe he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. He figured that he would probably have to pick a side.

And make room in his closet. And clear out half his shelves. And make space in the refrigerator. And rearrange his things, his routines, his entire life to accommodate someone that to him, had only started existing sixteen hours ago.

_Or maybe I’ll sleep in their bed_ , Toni thought, just before he fell asleep, and what a peculiar thought it was.


	2. The zeroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni and James find each other in consultation room seven, and nothing goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, a few things:
> 
> 1\. First, thank you! I was completely overwhelmed by the kind things you all said about chapter 1. I love you all and I hope that I've done the story justice with this second chapter.
> 
> 2\. There were initially going to be two chapters to this fic. There will now be four. I love this pairing so much and they just keep writing themselves, so I'm not going to get in their way. The whole thing will be finished by the end of January.
> 
> 3\. A warning, just in case - this chapter contains mentions of needles.
> 
> 4\. Standard disclaimers apply. Neither Toni Kroos nor James Rodriguez belong to me, probably for the best.

The following morning, Toni woke up to the sound of his doorbell.  

At first, he thought he was dreaming. When it didn’t stop, and when he realized that the sound was almost obnoxiously constant, he knew that he was awake. He blearily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and reached for his watch on the nightstand.

His eyes fell on his wrist first, and the events of the previous day came flooding back to him.

[02:00]

Toni buried his face in his pillow for a moment, trying to force down the anxiety that immediately began to rise in his chest, but he couldn’t. He wondered where he would be in two hours, and whether it would really be so bad if he just gathered the covers around him and remained in bed all day.

But the doorbell hadn’t stopped ringing. Toni pulled himself out of bed, threw a robe over his pyjamas, and shuffled sleepily to the front door. He pulled open a few curtains on his way, flooding his apartment with light in the hopes that it would wake him up a little bit.

He eventually opened the front door to find Basti, waiting for him with a wide smile and what appeared to be a bag full of groceries in his arms.

“Morning, sunshine.” He chirped.

Toni stared at him blankly. “It’s half past six in the morning. What the hell are you doing.”

If Basti heard the resentful undertones in Toni’s voice, he ignored them completely (and Toni wasn’t surprised that he did, because after all, this was Basti). He pulled Toni in for a hug tight enough to constitute attempted murder and then allowed himself in, walking past Toni and heading straight for the kitchen.

“Sami called last night.” Basti called out behind him. “He told me and Lukas everything. Holy _shit_ , man. This is big.”

Toni locked the door and went to join him in the kitchen. “And what, he sent you over?”

“No, he didn’t. I decided to volunteer my services.” 

“These services being what, exactly?”

Basti placed the bag of groceries on the kitchen table and began unpacking various items out of it.

“Well, the first thing that’s going to happen is that you’re going to have a shower. While you do that, I’m going to make you breakfast. Then I’ll leave you alone so you can meet the love of your life or whatever, but I figured you might need someone to take care of the little things this morning.”

The gesture was classic Basti – unilateral, thoughtful, and almost embarrassingly generous. Toni needed it too, and he knew it, and he was grateful that Basti knew him well enough to offer help without Toni having to ask.

“Thank you, honestly. But really, I’m fine.”

Basti knew his way around Toni’s kitchen well enough, and he began pottering about from pantry to sink to cupboard fetching utensils and plates.

“That’s exactly what someone who isn’t fine would say.” He declared, rifling through the drawer with the pots and pans. “Go shower. The eggs should be done by the time you’re done.”

“But — “ 

“ _Toni_. Go.” 

Toni raised his hands in surrender and did as he was told.

The shower could have lasted five minutes, but it didn’t. It took Toni only minutes to wash his body and his hair, but he remained underneath the water for a long time afterwards, watching the numbers flick down on his wrist. Each passing minute seemed to sharpen the apprehension that had tangled itself around his heart, his chest, his throat, that had made it difficult to breathe for almost a day now.

[01:50]

Toni had told Sami that he was afraid of the intrusion that a soulmate would bring to his organized little life. Now, alone with himself, Toni wondered whether he himself would be the intrusion - whether he was too set in his ways, whether he had hidden behind his defence mechanisms so irreversibly that he had rendered himself un-loveable.

[01:45]

Toni stayed underneath the water for a long time and none of the feelings washed away, so he turned off the water and began to get ready for the day ahead. He changed into something simple – black slacks, a white shirt, and a black sweater on top of it – and he played around with his hair until his stomach growled for attention. He looked down at his wrist once more before going back to the kitchen.

[01:35]

Basti looked up at him when he re-emerged, and wolf-whistled.

“Someone’s looking irresistible.”

“You keep quiet and stick to making eggs.” Toni replied drily, but he felt pleased nonetheless. He would take any encouragement he could get at this point. “Can I help with anything?”

“It’s all completely under control. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing fine.”

Basti raised the knife he was using to chop vegetables and waggled it accusingly in Toni’s direction. “Listen, I’m going to keep asking you until you give me an honest answer, so you might as well just tell me now. How are you feeling?”

Toni contemplated the mess of emotions that was tangled in his chest. He wondered which one he ought to tell Basti about.

“It’s just – fear of the unknown, I guess? Nothing unusual. I’m not the first to have it and I won’t be the last.”

“Toni, stop being philosophical. Tell me how you feel.”

“I am. This is how I cope with things. I rationalize them. I explain them. If I understand them, they don’t seem as bad.”

“And how are you going with rationalizing that time-mark of yours, then?”

“Terribly.” He admitted, after a long pause.

“If it makes you feel better, I spent the night before I met Lukas bent over the toilet, throwing up everything I had ever eaten.”

Toni raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”

“Neither does Lukas. Or anyone else, for that matter. You’re the first person I’ve ever told, actually.” Basti replied, slicing through a tomato. “But everyone’s terrified. You never hear about it because people are too busy telling you to be happy, and how it’s the best thing that’ll ever happen to you. No one ever thinks to acknowledge how terrifying the entire ordeal can be.”

“That’s … kind of comforting to hear. Thanks.”

“Good. Now – get me some of whatever fruit you have lying around. You’ll need something fresh to eat as well.”

Toni went to the fridge and picked out a few oranges, and a sharp knife.

He began peeling, his mind still on all that Basti had told him. He thought about Lukas, and Basti, and how good they were for each other despite the fact that Basti had been in terror the night before they met. It was a comforting thought, because in addition to his anxiety, Toni felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. He wasn’t proud of his fear when in all likelihood, someone nearby was waiting for their soulmate, for _him_ , their nervousness probably of a happier kind.

A blinding pain suddenly disrupted his thoughts and caused him to drop both the orange and the knife. Blood seeped from the palm of his hand and dripped onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. It took Toni a moment to realize that in peeling the orange, he had cut his palm.

The clattering of the knife had caught Basti’s attention, and when he realized what had happened, he swore sharply, cleared the sink, and began to run the tap.

“Come here. Quick. Put your hand under the water.”

Toni moved to the sink and put his hand under the stream. He winced as hot water came into contact with the flesh wound.

“What the fuck did you just do?”

“I don’t know.” 

“That looks deep.” 

“It feels deep. _Shit_.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Toni looked up at him, alarmed. “What? No. The time-mark. I’m supposed to – “

“That cut needs medical attention. I’m taking you to the emergency room.” Basti told him, his expression firm as he tried to study the wound. “And hey ... maybe the hospital’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

* * *

James didn’t sleep very long or very well that night. His eyes opened at five in the morning, and wouldn’t close again. His gaze immediately shifted to his wrist, the reflex ingrained even though his time-mark had appeared less than a day ago.

[03:30]

Although his bones felt like concrete and his eyes could barely focus, he couldn’t will himself back to sleep again. So he tossed, and he turned, with nothing but his anxious mind for company, till he eventually forced himself out of bed.

He had a long shower and forced down a few pieces of toast, each mouthful going down his throat with all the ease of sandpaper. He turned on the TV and watched it but somehow didn’t at the same time. Then he decided that he had had enough and should go to work, because being on his own seemed out of the question for now.

[02:15]

He arrived at half past six, a full hour and a half before his shift was due to start. Marcelo was taking a break in the staff room when he got there, and he stared up at James with concern over his bowl of cereal.

“What in god’s name are you — do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I do,” James replied simply, going to his locker to fetch his scrubs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So drink a glass of warm milk or burn a candle. Why the hell did you come in to work?”

“I needed something to do, Marcelo.”

Marcelo figured out what was going on. He put down his bowl and walked over to James. Without warning, he pulled James in for one of his skin-tight hugs, ruffling the hair on the back of James’ head as he did so. James buried his face in Marcelo’s shoulder and hugged him back just as tightly. It helped a little.

“Hey.” Marcelo told him soothingly. “Hey. Look. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure it’ll go fine.”

“I know, I know,” James replied, wondering whether he would start to believe it if he heard it enough times.

“And if it doesn’t, you call me and I’ll send Pepe over in a heartbeat to bust the guy’s nuts, okay?”

James smiled into Marcelo’s scrubs.

“We’re not sending in Pepe.”

“I’m just saying – the guy might as well know that there are several people in this building waiting to rip him a new asshole if he upsets you. He’s on your turf and he’s surrounded by your people. Say the word and we could do some damage and make it look like an accident.”

James laughed, despite himself. “Thanks. I think.” 

“Look, my break’s almost up, but if you need me, come find me, okay?” 

And with a few pats on his back, Marcelo left the room and left James to his thoughts.

[01:58]

* * *

Basti drove Toni to the emergency room, helped him to fill out the admission forms, and sat down with him near the far end of the room. It was emptier than Toni had expected it to be – there were only five other people in the waiting area – but they were still made to wait for a long time. Toni checked his time-mark.

[00:10]

“How are you feeling?” Basti asked gently.

“Like I’m about to have a heart attack.”

“Well, at least you’re in the right place for it.” Basti replied, trying to make light of the situation. “Do you think maybe it’s another patient?”

Toni looked around at the handful of other people. He couldn’t see any of their wrists, but they each seemed completely indifferent to everyone else in the room.

“I don’t think so. No one else seems to be looking around.”

A figure – a nurse – emerged from the reception area and approached them. He was small, with delicate features and blonde hair that he wore long, to his shoulders.

Toni held his wrist in his uninjured hand, and idly rubbed his thumb over his time-mark. The nurse’s eyes darted down towards it. Toni noticed him do so, and his heart lurched up to his throat until he had the sense to look at the nurse’s other hand, where he saw a wedding ring.

“Mr Kroos? My name is Luka. We’re ready to see you. Could you follow me, please?”

“Of course. Thank you.” He responded, standing up and cradling the makeshift bandage that Basti had wrapped around his hand. He turned to Basti, who had also stood up. “Thanks for waiting with me.”

Basti pulled him in for a fierce hug before standing back, hands still on Toni’s shoulders, his expression firm. “Call me as soon as you’re done. Good luck. You’ll be fine.”

Toni left Basti and followed Luka into the ward, past several beds with patients in a sight more pain than he was in. Luka eventually stopped outside one of the consultation rooms and opened the door for Toni.

“Someone will be with you very shortly, sir.” 

“Thank you.” Toni replied, smiling weakly.

_Someone_.

He walked in, sat down on the bed, and tried to remember to breathe.

[00:03] 

* * *

James was still in the staff room when his time-mark reached fifteen minutes, and at that point, he lost all ability to prise his eyes way or do anything else. He watched until the third digit zeroed, and until only single minutes separated him and whoever was waiting for him.

He was disrupted by Luka, who poked his head in through the door. “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“A guy just came in with a cut to the hand. Lateral wound. Superficial, from what I can tell,” he explained, and then he paused. After a moment, he gently added, “and for what it’s worth, he couldn’t stop staring at his wrist.”

“Sure?” 

“Positive. I saw the time-mark.”

James’ heart began somersaulting in his chest. He didn’t speak for a few moments – couldn’t – his breath caught somewhere in his throat.

“A cut? To the hand?”

“Yeah.” 

“That’s all? You’re sure?”

“That’s all. Shouldn’t take you long. When you’re done, we should be receiving a nasty case from across town that I might call you in for, but this guy’s injury seems textbook.”

Luka tossed him the patient chart and James caught it, his mind reeling.

_A cut to the hand. A cut. To the hand._

_Just a cut._

And with that realization, relief flooded James’ body like it had been held back by a dam. Maybe for the first time in almost a day, James breathed normally. The rush of oxygen made him feel light-headed.

“Okay. Okay. Thanks.”

“Oh, and before you go, James?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to look a little _less_ happy that this guy cut his hand.” Luka suggested, smiling slightly. “He’s waiting for you in consultation room seven.”

Luka winked and left James on his own. James looked down at his wrist.

[00:02]

And for the first time, a jolt of thrill pulsed through James, and he didn’t fight it.

* * *

Inside the room, Toni sat on the bed, his feet tapping on the floor like a metronome on speed. Outside it, James hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Both of them watched as their time-marks ticked down for the penultimate time.

[00:01]

And then, after a long, deep breath, James opened the door, entered the consultation room, and closed it behind him. Before doing anything else – before even looking at each other – both of them glanced down at their wrists.

[00:00]

And then they looked up at each other, for the first time, the first time of many times, the first time of a lifetime. They remained in silence for a long moment, each taking in the sight of the other.

Toni’s first thought was _oh, hell. He’s beautiful_.

He wore teal scrubs, and he looked youthful, his eyes big and brown and searching. _And his lips_. They were large, and full, and Toni’s head spun because the strange thought struck him that one day, he would get to kiss them.

And the first thought that crossed James’ mind was _he’s as nervous as I am_.

He was tall, and blonde, and he looked nothing like what James had expected. He was dressed tidily, _impeccably_ , and everything about him seemed expensive – from the shoes, to the sweater, to the chunky Rolex adorning his wrist. There was something serious about his demeanour, and James would have described him as cold were it not for those arrestingly blue eyes and the apprehension that he saw in them. It was an apprehension that he recognized as his own, the same as that which had plagued him for a day and kept him from sleeping.

Neither of them could prise his eyes away from the other, but still, they said nothing. Eventually, James pulled up a chair in front of the bed and sat down. He flipped open the chart that Luka had thrown at him and looked down at it briefly.

“Toni.” He said quietly, another first of many. 

Toni’s eyes flicked down to his name badge. “James.”

“No. Ha-mez.”

“Ha-mez?” Toni replied slowly, confused, but imitating his pronunciation nonetheless.

“That’s it.” James replied, charmed by the effort. Most people frowned or asked why the pronunciation was different. Toni just corrected himself.

He wanted to ask Toni a dozen questions – about himself, his life, his job, his favourite song, whether he had spent the last day in the same state as Toni – but he restrained, and forced himself into nursing mode.

_The man is bleeding_. _Get a grip_.

“Okay, let’s see this hand of yours.” He said softly, trying to keep his tone under control. “Can you hold it out for me?”

Toni raised his injured hand. Blood had stained all the way through the makeshift bandage that Basti had made for him. The bandage extended over the cuff of his sweater, covering the row of zeroes that now adorned his wrist, and James slowly removed it.

James reached for an ampule of liquid from the supply trolley, and broke its seal. “I need to flush the wound with saline solution to clean it before anything else. This shouldn’t hurt. Then I’ll check the seriousness of the wound, okay?”

Toni nodded, and James took the injured hand in both of his own. He emptied the ampule over the wound and began studying it and the surrounding skin. He asked Toni to move his fingers and tell him if he felt any pain (he didn’t). Then he pressed a blunt needle to the tips of Toni’s fingers and asked him to indicate whether he felt any sensation (he did, all five times).

As James studied the wound, Toni studied him. He watched James closely as he worked, marvelling at how quickly he became absorbed in his task. His brows were gathered in a small frown of concentration, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, its colour deepening to a bold red. James moved Toni’s hand gently as he studied it, his fingers moving almost reverently along Toni’s skin.

Toni wanted to reach out, to touch him, to confirm he was real. He was completely oblivious to the wound on his hands, occupied instead by three thoughts that spun around his mind like a merry-go-round.

_His name is Ha-mez_.

_And he’s a nurse_.

_And he’s beautiful_.

James finished studying the wound, and looked up at Toni with a reassuring smile. He caught Toni looking, and caught Toni blushing when he realized that he had been caught.

“The good news is that the wound is superficial.” James explained gently, even though his heart was racing, even though he didn’t want to talk about the goddamn wound. “The cut’s pretty long, but it’s shallow. There’s no damage to your tendons or to the blood supply to the rest of your fingers.”

“And the bad news?” Toni asked, trying not to focus on the dusting of light freckles across the top of James’ nose.

“You’re going to need stitches. And injections. Two of them. The first one is an anti-tetanus shot. The second one is a local anaesthetic.”

Toni stared at him for a few moments, his already quick pulse quickening once more, but this time for unpleasant reasons.

“Anti-tetanus? Is that – necessary?” He asked timidly, hoping for a way out because he hated injections – _hated_ them – and he didn’t need James to witness his trepidation for them first-hand. “I was only using a kitchen knife.”

“It’s just a precaution, but yes.” James explained, his features awash with apology. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

_It’s mine_ , Toni berated himself. _Me, and my stupid inability to peel a stupid orange._

“Most people opt to have it administered in the arm.” James continued.

“Most people? What’s the other option?”

A little bit of colour crept into James’ cheeks, and Toni could have sworn that a shadow of a smile crossed his lips. Then the conversation took a turn that god himself couldn’t have predicted.

“Uh – well – there’s also the buttocks.”

An awkward pause hung between them.

A small, sensible part of Toni figured that one day, this would all make for quite a good story, and he would be able to look back on it and laugh. Maybe they both would. But for now, it was the single most embarrassing experience of his life.

Toni swore that he would never let another orange pass through his lips ever again.

_Ever_.

“Let’s stick with the arm.” Toni replied simply.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and sweater as James prepared the injection and flicked the needle. Then James placed his hand on Toni’s arm, holding it in place, and Toni shut his eyes tightly and breathed deeply as James pushed the needle into his skin.

_Some first date_ , Toni thought to himself as James finished and dabbed the site with alcohol.

Then, James applied antiseptic on the wound, and it _stung_. It stung like a _motherfucker_ , and red stars flooded Toni’s vision because it _hurt_ , but he kept his mouth shut and his body still and his breath regular.

Toni wasn’t sure why he didn’t want James to see him react, but was very certain that he didn’t.

James looked up, visibly impressed.

“You handled the antiseptic well.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Toni replied, lying through his teeth, pleased nonetheless.

“It normally is. I’ve made grown men cry with Betadine.”

Something in his tone caught Toni’s attention.

“You don’t sound particularly remorseful.”

James thought about it for a moment before finally replying, with a small smile, “I’m not.”

The next injection – an anaesthetic - didn’t feel as painful, maybe because Toni’s skin was still reeling from the burn of the antiseptic, or maybe because his thoughts were still on the small smile that James had given him. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t have cared less.

James began stitching the wound closed. He worked swiftly, methodically, his features set with a seriousness that made him look older than his youthful face would otherwise suggest. The stitches he made were small and symmetrical, and there was a meticulousness about him and his work that Toni couldn’t help but admire.

Toni tried to focus on the stitching – on the fact that there was a needle going in and out of his skin – but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting upwards to steal glances at James either. When James was done, he began to carefully bandage his handiwork, and gave Toni instructions as he worked.

“Make an appointment with your GP in about five days time. They can change the dressing on the wound, and check for any sign of infection, just in case they need to refer you back to the hospital again. In the meantime, try to keep the bandaging dry and your hand elevated so that it doesn’t swell up. If you have any concerns in the meantime, contact your GP first.”

“Thank you.”

And then they fell silent, because there was nothing medical left to talk about, nothing they could use to avoid the conversation they needed to have.

Their silence wasn’t for a lack of things to be said. There were plenty of things that they needed to say to each other, to ask each other, to learn – but all of them needed to be said using language that they didn’t yet knew how to speak.

James was still holding Toni’s hand in his own. Without thinking or asking, he gently pushed up the sleeve of Toni’s sweater, exposing his wrist and the line of zeroes across it. He pressed his fingers against it, as though he wanted to check that it was real, and it _was_. It was as real as the soft skin on which it was emblazoned, as real as the rush of Toni’s pulse against his fingertips. James turned his own wrist over, exposing an identical row of zeroes for Toni to see.

Eventually, Toni looked up at James, and James met his gaze, and smiled. He smiled and Toni’s heart seemed to slow down and beat in overdrive at the same time. Toni smiled back, a little.

“I guess maybe we should talk about this.” Toni began quietly.

“We probably should.” 

“How much time do you have?” Toni asked.

“Not long.” James replied, apologetically, and Toni could tell that the fact genuinely bothered him. “I’ve just started my shift.”

“When do you finish?”

“Half past ten at night, tonight, but tomorrow I finish at three. Can I see you then? Will you be busy?”

Toni’s head spun. This boy – this beautiful boy – wanted to see him. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact.

“No, I won't be busy at all.”

“Okay, how about dinner?” James suggested nervously. “How do you feel about Italian?” 

“I love it.”

James gave him a shy smile. “Good. Me too.”

And it was the smallest, stupidest thing – because everyone liked Italian, didn’t they? – but it was a detail, and details chipped away at the uncertainty that had fuelled Toni’s fear and anxiety. Details made James real, made him a person that Toni could learn about and come to know.

James went to the desk and pulled out a clean pad of paper, scribbling his details on the top sheet. He spoke as he wrote.

“There’s a nice place not too far from here. They open at 7. I’ll write down the address but I'll give you my details just in case you can’t make it.”

“I’ll make it.” Toni said quietly, and James smiled at him again, and Toni wondered how long it would take before that smile stopped wrecking havoc on his heartbeat.

He took the pad from James, pocketed the top sheet, and scribbled his details on it before giving the pad back to James.

And then, again, they went silent, the space between them pervaded by a suffocating sense of wanting to speak, to say _something_ , but not knowing what to say or how to put it.

James’ restraint was time. He cursed his shift, and the fact that he’d have to wait an entire extra day to spend time with this quiet person and his blue, blue eyes.

And Toni’s restraint was his own sense of disbelief, because he had told himself so often that the universe hadn’t kept anyone for him that he had started to believe it. What had started as a defence mechanism had become his gospel, and now he was staring its contradiction in the face.

“I better leave you to your shift.” Toni said softly.

“I’m sorry,” James began, “If I could switch it, I would, but – “

“It’s not your fault.” Toni replied, reassuring him with a smile. “Twenty-four hours isn’t that much notice.”

And then, mostly because Toni didn’t know what else to do, and because he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight, and because it was a reflex honed by half a decade of business meetings – Toni held out his hand.

For a handshake.

And he regretted it, completely, _utterly_ , as much as any decision he had ever made, as soon as he did it.

Because this was his soulmate.

And here he was, asking to shake his hands.

Toni could have sworn that he saw a flash of amusement in those big eyes, but James didn’t say anything. He clasped Toni’s hand in his own, his skin as soft as gossamer, and shook it with a firmness that took Toni by surprise.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

Toni left consultation room seven, mortified with himself, because _you shook his hand you idiot why did you shake his hand who even does that._

And James watched him go, smiling to himself, charmed by Toni's nervousness and a little bit in love with him already. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to my parents who work in hospitals, and who were really confused by my sudden interest in the detailed treatment of wounds. 
> 
> As ever, kudos, comments, cookies, or con-crit will be welcomed and appreciated ^_^


	3. The first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James thinks a lot, Toni admits a lot, and both of them start feeling that maybe, things will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! 
> 
> 1\. Okay, real talk, your comments are actually the light of my life. You guys are so unbelievably sweet. Thank you so much! 
> 
> 2\. I had a nice 3,000 word-ish plan all set out for this chapter, and here we are, 7,000 words later. I don't even know what happened.
> 
> 3\. Next chapter's gonna be so fluffy that you're all gonna contract diabetes. 
> 
> 4\. Standard disclaimers apply. Toni, James and everyone else belong to themselves.

That night, James arrived home at 11, his bones heavy as lead and his mind occupied. He should have gone to bed immediately and he knew it, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he made himself a cup of tea and collapsed onto the couch, the television streaming music in the background to which he paid no attention. James sat and thought, absent-mindedly stirring his tea long after the sugar in it had dissolved.

He hadn’t wanted to go back to work after Toni had left. He wasn’t even sure whether he could, his mind as chaotic as television static, but he didn’t have a choice. Luka had seen Toni leaving, and he came to fetch James from consultation room seven after a while. Before long, James had found himself elbow-deep in patients and Luka’s instructions. 

And whereas the day before, the distraction of work had been a blessing, today it had been anything but. Concentration slipped through his fingers like warm butter and more than once, he found Luka snapping impatient fingers in front of his eyes, trying to bring him back to earth.

_“James.”_

_James came to, and met Luka’s eye sheepishly. “Fuck. Sorry.”_

_“Look, not that I don’t appreciate that this is the biggest day of your life or anything – but I need you to stick with me, okay? I need you alert.”_

_“Sorry. Won’t happen again.”_

But it did anyway. Several times.

The nervousness of the night before had long left him. Now that he had met Toni, its place was taken up by the kind of curiosity that he knew would keep him awake for hours. He replayed the twenty minutes he had spent in Toni’s company over and over, trying to organize his thoughts, and he found himself lingering over some parts of the meeting more than others.

James thought back over the thin curve of Toni’s lips, the strong lines of his jaw, the way his cheekbones crested sharply when he smiled, and the dimples that were so subtle they almost weren’t there. And those _eyes_ , the sheer blueness of them, and the way their softness balanced out the firmness of the rest of his face.

James’ mind lingered over the almost imperceptible tremble in Toni’s hand the first time he had given it to James. It lingered on the way redness mottled Toni’s cheeks when James looked up and caught him mid-gaze, and on the way his smile started slowly on his lips before blossoming across the rest of his features.

His mind mapped out everything that he had learned about Toni, but James found himself with more gaps than answers. _He’s_ _tall, and blonde. He can’t be trusted with a kitchen knife._ _He’s shy. He knows it_ – and that was all. James mused on how peculiar it was, having a face and a name but next to no other information. He could imagine Toni  - he could see him clearly in his mind’s eye – but he didn’t know what else to imagine about him. And yet, despite that, he couldn’t think about anything else.

James thought about the fucking _oddity_ of all, too – the fact that Toni had existed this whole time, going about his day, breathing in the same air of the same city. James wondered whether and how many times their paths had almost crossed in the past, and what accidents of fate had interfered to keep them from each other.

And James thought about the future a little as well. He looked around his flat. It was his own, completely so, as personal to him as his fingerprint. He tried to imagine Toni in it, at the dinner table, in the kitchen, in the window-seat that overlooked the street. He wondered what Toni’s home looked like too, and how he himself would look in it.

James tried to imagine himself with Toni, talking and laughing and holding hands  - as they probably would, at some point – and it was a strange thought. He told himself to stop and get a grip, because _you don’t even know the guy yet_ , but his mind wandered anyway.

At midnight, he dragged himself to bed, his body aching with relief as it finally hit the sheets. He lay awake anyway, his mind reeling, and he thought about the day to come.

* * *

Toni didn’t spend that night alone because Sami wouldn’t let him. 

Sami called him at midday, tone casual as anything, and said that everyone was coming over for dinner, and that he should come too. Toni told him that he was thinking of maybe spending the night alone. Sami pretended not to hear him and told him to turn up at seven with a bottle of the same rosé that he had brought over the last time. Mesut would be making Moroccan – Toni’s favourite.

He arrived at the same time as Benni and Mats. Lukas and Basti were already inside, and Mesut was directing them around in the kitchen like a field martial. Sami stood to the side, mixing drinks and stealing the occasional adoring glance in Mesut’s direction.

Toni spent the night on edge, waiting for them to bring up his time-mark – but they didn’t. They moved from the entrée (bourek), to the main (lamb tagine with prunes and couscous), to dessert (m’hanncha), and no one asked him a single question. Even though he knew that they all knew, and even though none of them could have missed the bandaging on his hand, and even though it was the very thing that Sami had gathered them here to discuss, the seven of them talked instead about the news and Mats’ new job and Lukas’ plans to spend time in Cologne over Christmas.

Only afterwards, when they were sitting amongst their empty dessert plates, was the subject finally breached. Basti looked to Toni and smiled, his eyes narrowed with mischief, but he didn’t say anything. Everyone else looked to Toni too, the air on the table expectant, and Toni began to re-evaluate his rush to talk about it.

“Toni.” Basti began, his tone dangerously casual. “So.”

“What?”

“Still a virgin?”

The others burst into peals of loud laughter and Basti grinned at him, unrepentant.

“For god’s sake.” Toni replied, even though his lips had curled into a smile as well.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“No, we didn’t fuck.” Toni answered. And then, without thinking, and because it was the truth, even though he hadn’t expected to share it, he added, “and I haven’t been a virgin for a decade.” 

The laughter died immediately, like a popped balloon. They all stared at Toni in stunned silence for a few moments, and Toni stared down at his hands without meeting anyone’s eye.

Eventually, when the silence became too heavy, he looked up from one face to another, his expression calm but unapologetic. His heart ricocheted against his chest.

He wasn’t sure why, after a decade of intentionally keeping the fact to himself, he had decided to share it. He hadn’t expected to ever tell them, and from the looks on their faces, they clearly hadn’t expected to hear anything like it from him either.

Basti leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. “Wait – you mean – before your soulmate? You slept with another person?”

Toni nodded, and wiped at a smudge on the tablecloth with his thumb. “With people. Plural.” 

Another revelation, another bout of silence. Toni waited for the news to sink in, and from the looks on everyone’s faces, it was taking its time.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that it wasn’t forbidden, and it certainly wasn’t outlawed, but he also knew that it just wasn’t _done_.

And yet, it happened. Everyone knew someone who had taken a person other than their soulmate to bed, and if they didn’t, then they knew someone who knew someone who did. But people navigated around the topic with hushed voices and stern eyes anyway, even though the truth of it was always there, always lurking, a tacit taboo. It bugged the hell out of Toni.

“Why?” Basti finally asked.

“I don’t know.” Toni replied, shrugging. “I stopped waiting for my time-mark. I didn’t stop being human.”

Everyone was supposed to wait, or so they said, but no one had to wait as long as Toni, so he didn’t. The first time he had slept with someone else, the guilt had interfered with his sleep for a week. The second time had been a little bit easier. After the third and fourth time, the guilt washed off him like water. He hadn’t felt guilty since.

Basti turned to Sami, as though he could somehow confirm the information, because if anybody knew, it would surely be Sami.

“Did you know about this?”

Sami shook his head, and eyed Toni with a mixed expression that Toni couldn’t unpack. “No, I didn’t. Not that it’s anyone’s business I guess.”

“No, of course. It isn’t anybody’s business.” Basti repeeated, his expression relaxing back to normal, and yet he still looked at Toni with new eyes, like he was seeing something in that calm demeanour he had never seen before. “I’m just – wow. I’m impressed.”

Toni raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah. Y’know.” Basti replied, and finally, he smiled again. “Never took you for much of a rebel. I’m impressed.”

“Did you at least _kiss_ the boy, then?” Mats asked wryly, changing the subject, and Toni breathed because it meant that even if the others were surprised for now, they didn’t care about what he had done. They wouldn’t judge. Toni felt a sudden wellspring of affection for every single one of them.

But images of awkward handshakes and the glint of amusement in James’ eyes came back to Toni, and he winced inside. He knew – _knew_ – that when he told them what had happened with James, they wouldn’t let him forget it for years.

“No, we didn’t kiss. I – uh – may have accidentally shaken his hand.” 

And with that, the laughter reignited around the table as suddenly and as loudly as it had died down before.

“You _what_?” Lukas demanded.

“I shook his hand.” Toni replied awkwardly. “I know. Believe me, I _know_.”

Meanwhile, Basti covered his face with his hands out of second-hand embarrassment. “Toni. _Toni_. Please. You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Well, at least the guy got the authentic Toni experience.” Mesut pointed out, grinning. “What’s his name, anyway?” 

“His name is Ha-mez. It’s spelled like James, but it’s pronounced Ha-mez.”

Benni’s jaw dropped, as Toni had expected it would, because Benni was a doctor at the same hospital. He had been meaning to ask Benni as soon as he figured out that his soulmate was hospital staff too.

“Wait. Wait. James Rodriguez, the nurse?” Benni exclaimed. “James _Rodriguez_ is your soulmate?”

“So you do know him?

“Are you kidding? He was assisting me in theatre all of last week. He’s brilliant.”

Toni nodded wistfully, because _go fucking figure_. A decade of waiting and the only degree of separation between him and his soulmate was Benni, the guy he had known since he was eight, who had grown up around the corner from him back home. 

“Is he cute?” Mats asked.

 _Yes, yes, a thousand times yes_ , Toni thought, his heart twisting at the thought of James. But he kept that thought to himself.

“Does it matter?” He replied instead. “He seemed nice enough. Very professional.”

The answer satisfied no one, and the six of them looked at him expectantly.

“Fine, yes, he’s gorgeous,” and the rest of them cheered loudly. Basti had the gall to applaud, and Toni found himself smiling too, quite against his will.

And James _was_ gorgeous. Toni had gone to the bathroom to run cold water over his face after they met, and he stood in front of the basin mirror with the kind of anxiety about his appearance that he hadn’t felt in years. He knew he had a quiet formality about him that some people found attractive, but he worried anyway. He worried that James – who could probably have anyone eating out of his hand with that smile of his – wouldn’t be one of those people.

“Cuter than Erik?” Sami teased casually.

Toni gave him a dry look. “Oh, get fucked, Sami.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Basti rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Okay, he’s cute. Good. Excellent. I need more details about this guy.”

“There really isn’t that much to say yet. He spent most of the time treating my hand. We didn’t talk much. We’re going out on a date tomorrow night, though.”

Basti turned to Benni, unsatisfied. “Fine, Benni can tell us. Is this Ha-mez good enough for our Toni or not?” 

Benni shook his head and raised his hands, refusing the responsibility of such a question. “I think he is, but I’m not going to say anything else about him. Toni’s seeing him tomorrow night. I’ll let him make up his own mind.” 

Toni smiled at him appreciatively, and then without warning, Mesut decided to propose a toast. He raised his champagne flute in Toni’s direction, beaming so proudly that it seemed like his face might split. The others followed suit, and a warm affection for each of them spread across Toni’s chest. 

“To Toni, the last of our group to be matched.” Mesut declared. “And to your soulmate, the next of our number. Here’s to your happy ending.”

“And your happy beginning.” Lukas added.

The sound of clinking glassware filled the room, and afterwards, Mats changed the subject to football. The rest of the night passed easily.

Toni only half-listened to the rest of the conversation, and thought about the toast that Mesut had made. He looked around at his closest friends, his oldest friends. They knew him and his quiet ways and they had never needed him to change for them. For all his solitude, he needed them and he knew it. He also knew that he built walls around himself and that few people had the patience to wait for him to pull them down. He hoped that James would be one of them.

He looked from Sami and Mesut, to Mats and Benni, to Lukas and Basti. There were seven of their group, including him, and they had been a seven longer than anything else. It was peculiar to think that soon, they would be eight, that he would no longer arrive and leave their gatherings on his own but with someone else. He tried to imagine another chair in the empty space next to his, and he tried to imagine James in it. 

The lot of them stayed till eleven, but when everyone stood up to leave, Sami gave Toni a look that said _stay_ , so he did. He and Sami helped Mesut clean up and pack away the leftovers, and Mesut then excused himself to bed. Toni and Sami went outside onto the porch with blankets for the cold and a bottle of wine for the conversation, as they often did.

They sat in silence at first and it was pleasant. Comfortable. Of the rest of them, Sami was the quietest next to him. He could handle silence, and because of that, he could handle Toni. 

“If you’re going to ask about that thing, from earlier,” Toni began, under no illusions as to why he was still here, “you might as well go ahead.”

“Only if you’re okay talking about it. You don’t have to.”

“You’re not upset that I kept it from you?” 

Sami shook his head, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Of course not. It’s not my business. I don’t care, as long as you were safe and looked after yourself.”

“I was.” Toni assured him. And then he began telling Sami the stories that till now, he had kept to himself. It was a strange thing, speaking them out loud.

He told Sami about Philipp, his tutor at university and his first. Philipp was older and smarter than him, and all Toni wanted to do, _desperately_ , was to impress him. A semester of making eyes at each other and Toni outsmarting everyone else in the class had ended up with Toni in Philipp’s flat for coffee, and then in Philipp’s bed for a fuck, once, twice, for the rest of the year, so many times he lost count. It was only lust and admiration, and nothing deeper, so Toni hadn’t minded when it came to an end, as it eventually had to.

He told Sami about Manuel at the campus bar, tall and stone-cold handsome, and how he had to drink more alcohol than he was proud to admit in order to approach him. They drank so much that dancing began to seem like a good idea, so dance they did, and each danced worse than the other but Toni didn’t care because Manu was gorgeous and he felt reckless and for once, he didn’t feel anything else. He had taken Manu back to his flat and fucked him and Manu had ended up staying for the weekend. They fucked and played Fifa and fucked some more and after the Monday, Toni never saw him again. Again, he didn’t mind.

He told Sami about Jerome, whom he had met while backpacking through France. Jerome was clever and funny and stylish in a way that Toni could only envy but never duplicate. They had stayed up arguing past midnight about politics and then, because Toni was always bravest when he was away from home, he asked Jerome whether he wanted to come back with him to his room. Jerome grinned and told Toni that he thought he’d never ask. They spent the rest of the night ignoring the loud, angry raps on the wall from the adjacent rooms. They parted the next morning on pleasant terms.

And he told Sami about Marco, who had been on the same Contiki tour of England as him. Toni had spent the first week of the tour thinking that Marco was insufferable, with his ridiculous hair and his pranks and his shit-eating smirk. But day by day, Marco became sufferable, and then tolerable, and then pretty damn good company. Marco kissed him in a dark bar one night and pulled Toni back to his room, and Toni couldn’t remember much about the rest of England after that. They kept in touch after the tour finished and still caught up for a drink whenever Marco had occasion to visit Madrid. Their dalliance was a fond memory but nothing more, and Marco had since introduced Toni to his own soulmate, Mario. 

“And then,” Toni said eventually, “came Isco.”

Something in Toni’s voice, or maybe his tone or his demeanour – or all three – made Sami refill Toni’s wine generously. Toni accepted it gratefully and downed a fair amount of his glass. 

“Go on.” Sami told him gently. 

“Isco happened during my gap year after uni, in south-east Asia. His name was Fransico but he hated being called that, so we called him Isco, He was from Spain and he was beautiful, Sami. These big dark eyes and this ridiculous beard and this smile that just –“ Toni paused, sighed, took another sip, continued speaking. “We were in the same dorm room in Vietnam and he struck up a conversation with me. He was so easy to talk to. We talked and talked and didn’t shut up, and then we just kept each other’s company. I went to Thailand and he decided to follow me. His time-mark hadn’t appeared yet either.” 

“And then?”

“I don’t know, but he wasn’t like the others. Two weeks in, we were sharing a room in Phuket and he climbed into my bed. I let him stay. I probably shouldn’t have but I couldn’t bring myself to kick him out because I wanted him too. All of a sudden there was this warm body in my bed and I felt something for him and for once, it wasn’t just some casual fuck.”

“Were you in love with him?” 

“I knew him for six weeks. It was too short to be love. I don’t think it was, but it was strong, whatever the hell it was.”

“Did he feel the same way?”

“I thought so.”

“So what happened?” Sami asked gently, even though his heart coiled in sadness for Toni, because he had a fair idea where this was going.

“His time-mark appeared one day when we were together. I noticed it before he did.”

“So what did you do?”

“We talked. He told me to stay anyway. He said he liked having me around. I decided it would be best if I left him, so I did. I never heard from him again.”

Sami exhaled. “Fuck. I’m sorry, man. How did you handle everything?”

“I didn’t, for a while. I moved on to Chiang Mai, locked myself in a hotel room and cried myself to sleep for a week. It sucked at first but it got better. At least I was travelling. I had other distractions.” 

“Has there been anyone else?”

“Not since Isco, no.”

“Do you still – “ and Sami paused, unsure of how to phrase the question delicately.

“Do I still feel that way about him? No. Thank god. Not for a long time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

His heart had felt raw for almost a year afterwards, but he learned to deal with the pain of it, just as he had learned to deal with the pain of everything else. Toni went from thinking about Isco daily to barely thinking about him at all, to remembering whatever they had fondly but with no deeper sentiment attached. It wasn’t the first time that Toni had slowly trained himself out of particular feelings. It was fast becoming his speciality.

He had been out at dinner with Mats and Benni two years ago when Isco walked into the restaurant, holding the hand of a taller, dark-haired man, but Isco didn’t see him. After the initial shock had worn off, Toni studied his feelings and found nothing – no ache, no resentment, no sense of injustice at the universe. That, above everything else, was a relief to him, and he turned his attention back to Mats and Benni and enjoyed the rest of the night without giving Isco a second thought.

“Good.” Sami told him. “And so now – what about James?”

 _James_ , Toni thought, and something pleasant stirred quietly in him. The conversation had been heavy but his chest unclenched a little with the thought of him. Because even though they had just met, and even though they knew nothing about each other, James was _his_. Or would be, eventually.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll see.”

“You sound better than you did yesterday, at least.” 

“Meeting him helped. He was – I don’t know, Sami.” Toni began cautiously, and then he decided to be frank. “I’ve spent twenty minutes with him. That’s not long enough for anything, but somehow I find myself liking the guy. Does that make sense?”

Sami smiled and clinked his glass to Toni’s. “That, my friend, is optimism. And it’s nice to hear it coming from you.”

* * *

The Italian place that James had picked was small, the kind that was hidden off the street, down the back of a very long alleyway that you wouldn’t think to walk down unless you knew the area. Which Toni didn’t, so he had to ask for directions twice. Cozy tables for two and four spilled outside the restaurant and onto the pavement, each of them laden with red chequered tablecloths and glasses holding cutlery and grissini. Toni arrived fifteen minutes early, assured himself that he had found the right place, and decided to take a brief stroll around the neighbourhood to pass the time.

He walked past a myriad of other small restaurants in a similar vein, and small shops, and a night market. Everything was loud, vibrant, bursting with life. On any other day, he would have found it charming, but tonight he walked around and his heart ate itself with nervous excitement and worry, his mind dissecting every permutation of a date that hadn’t yet happened.

Mostly, he worried about the little things, like the conversations they would have and how long would be too long for dinner and whether he ought to pay or whether they should split the bill. He worried about the little things so that he didn’t have to think about the big things, like the fact that these dates would probably become regular and the fact that he would have to meet James’ family and friends. For each concern that had been silenced when he had met James, a dozen more emerged in its place.

A dozen hopes emerged too, but Toni wouldn’t let himself dwell on those just yet.

Sami had told him to relax, to be himself. It was a kind thought and a sensible one, but of little help. Toni wondered what James wanted, the sort of person that he dreamed about when he was alone, and he wondered whether this person resembled himself in any way.

Toni walked and suddenly felt waves against his leg as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He checked it and found six messages – one from each of Lukas and Basti, Benni and Mats, and Mesut and Sami – and Toni could see Sami’s fingerprints all over the thoughtful gesture. The messages were true to their senders, ranging from the sweet ( _Breathe. He’s a sweetheart. He’ll love you – Benni_ ) to the encouraging ( _YOU GOT THIS_ – _Mesut_ ) to the pragmatic ( _Be open. Be honest. Don’t hide_ – _Sami_ ) to the downright inflammatory ( _Use protection!_ – _Basti_ ).

Toni read them all twice, and found himself smiling by the time he returned his phone to his pocket. He decided to make his way back to the restaurant

He found James standing outside in black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black and grey striped cardigan. Outside of his nursing scrubs, he seemed bigger than Toni remembered him. His clothes fit him tight and he stood taller, his shoulders broader. For the second time in as many days, Toni’s heartbeat quickened at the first sight of him.

James eventually noticed him when he was close. He gave Toni a big wave, and an even bigger smile, and _god_ , Toni found himself thinking as he smiled back nervously, _he really is so stupidly beautiful_.

James led him inside and the place was full, just quiet enough to talk in peace but just loud enough not to worry about anyone overhearing the conversation. Toni figured out within moments that James was a regular. He greeted the front of house and the two waiters warmly by their first name, and he waved hello to the kitchen staff through the service window at the back of the restaurant.

An old, kind-faced waiter took them to a table down the far end and they sat down. They passed the first couple of minutes in silence. Toni studied the menu while James pretended to do so, because he knew the menu off by heart, so he stole glances up at Toni and the look of quiet concentration on his face.

Eventually, James looked up at him properly, and with an easy smile.

“Do you know what you want?”

“Everything.” Toni admitted, his eyes skimming over the options. He had succeeded in eliminating only one dish, and couldn’t choose between the fourteen others. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, I’ve had everything. It’s all amazing.” James said, relieved that Toni liked the place.

“Okay, how about you pick for me, then?” Toni suggested.

James arched an eyebrow. “That’s … quite the responsibility.” 

“I’ll eat almost anything.” Toni smiled. “You’ll be fine.”

“And we can always come here again, anyway.” James said, the words falling out of his mouth before he had time to think about them.

When they realised what he had said, and its implications, they lapsed into silence for a few moments. Because there it was, a reminder that this wasn’t just dinner, but the first dinner on the first date of the rest of their lives, probably. A red, nervous stain crept across James’ cheeks.

The sight of it put Toni at ease. He felt better knowing that James was muddling his way through this as well. _He's cute when he's flustered, too_.

“If we’re going to get through the whole menu,” Toni pointed out, “we might have to come back more than once.”

At that, James’ shoulders relaxed, his smile lost its nervous edge, and for the first time that evening, both of them thought that maybe things were going to be okay. They placed their orders and they began to talk.

And Toni – because he was a journalist by trade, and because every further bit of information about James calmed him down a little more, and because it meant that he didn’t have to talk about himself – began asking question, after question, after question. For his part, James seemed only too happy to answer.

Over the entrée, Toni asked James talked about his work – always the first subject, and always the easiest. James told Toni about his mother, a nurse herself, and the times that she had taken him to work with her when he was young. He told Toni about the small mountain of medical textbooks in their study at home and how had began climbing it as a toddler and then reading through it as a teen. He told Toni about the year that he decided to leave nursing to study English, only to find that he missed nursing too much, so he went back to it. Toni asked about his work in Madrid and whether he enjoyed it, and James told him about Iker and Luka and Marcelo and how he never wanted to leave. Toni mentioned that he was friends with Benni as well, and James gushed about him for ten minutes, his expression bright. 

Over the main, Toni asked James about his family. James told him that he was born in Colombia, and that had moved to Madrid after he had finished university. His parents were still back in Colombia, and he was their only child, but each of his parents had at least three siblings and there were enough cousins to keep everyone busy. He missed home, tried to go back once or twice a year when he could, but he couldn’t always get time off.

Toni told him that he loved travel and that he had been to South America, but that he hadn’t visited Colombia yet. James’ face lit up with excitement and he began talking about Cúcuta, where he was born, and Bogotá, the capital. He told Toni about his mother’s fried empanadas and her bandeja paisa, and the restaurant in the centre of Cúcuta that made them _almost_ as well as she did (but not quite), and about how nobody had really tried coffee unless they tried it in Colombia.

Toni watched James become animated as he spoke about his home, its food, its music, and he wondered whether they were accidentally planning their first holiday together. It was a strange thought. Stranger still was the fact that this thought didn’t alarm him as much as he expected. 

Or indeed, at all.

After their mains had been cleared, James decided to flip the tables. He knew what Toni had been doing and had indulged him in it enough for one date. He wanted to ask questions and he wanted to listen and he wanted to learn and to begin to dismantle the walls around this person in front of him. He had a suspicion that maybe the walls around Toni were neither as high nor as solid as he had first suspected.

“Okay, that’s enough about me for one dinner.” James declared cheerfully. “Now you. Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Toni laughed, flattered. “That might take a while.”

“It’s only ten o’clock.” James pointed out. “We have the whole night.”

And Toni wasn’t used to talking personally or intimately about himself, but he decided – against every instinct that he had honed in himself – that because James had done him the grace of being honest, he owed James a little bit of honesty in return. He began speaking, and James met every answer with a good question and even better follow-up questions.  Toni had half a mind to tell him that if he ever gave up nursing, the magazine might hire him.

Toni began by telling James about the magazine and his work with it. He explained how he had started off as a junior writer, but worked his way up quickly because the editorial team was young and keen on promoting fresh faces. James asked him whether he missed writing. Toni said that unfortunately, he was a much better editor than he was a writer. He admitted, without expecting to do so, that he was working on the nerve to start a novel. Then he flushed ten shades of red and dodged every one of James’ questions about the plot. 

James asked about his family and his hobbies and Toni told him about his parents in Greifswald, his brother Felix in Bremen, and his insatiable sense of wanderlust. He told James about how he had taken a gap year to travel after finishing high school and then another gap year to travel after he had finished university. He told him about Cairo and Vancouver, and the overnight train from St Petersburg to Moscow, and the time he had run out of money in Tokyo.

They covered their favourite movies (they both liked Tarantino but disagreed with surprising intensity about his best work), their favourite books (James had sophisticated taste; Toni tended to buy more books than he had time to read) and their favourite music (Toni liked Olly Murs; James grimaced and said that they’d have to do something about that). 

When they ended up on the subject of football, James narrowed his eyes and asked Toni whether he supported Atlético or Real. When Toni cautiously answered that he had a season’s double pass to the Bernabéu, James almost lost the plot with joy, because supporting Atlético would have been a dealbreaker.

And Toni normally took either Mesut or Sami with him to games, but he decided then and there that from now on, he’d only take James. Mesut and Sami could get their own season pass.

It wasn’t like Toni, all this honesty and planning from the word go, but there was an earnestness in James that seemed to pull words and plans and out of him like loose thread from a sweater. James had a smile that God himself probably couldn’t waver and slowly, surely, Toni opened up to it.

And James was beautiful, youthful, full of life – everything Toni had wanted even though he hadn’t dared to let himself dream. A smattering of light freckles dusted across his button nose and his full lips. And _those eyes_ , bigger than any person’s had a right to be.

 _And he’s mine_ , he began telling himself, because he would have to get used to the thought, and _better sooner rather than later, right_? Slowly, he began to relax.

James picked up on it, too, because when Toni relaxed, he smiled more, and it didn’t take a lot to make him laugh. James was taken aback by how dramatically a laugh changed Toni’s face – he giggled ( _giggled_ ; James had not been expecting that), his dimples became pronounced, and the pensive expression that he wore by default was replaced by one that could only be described as – well – kind of _dorky_.

Eventually, their empty dessert plates were cleared, and they ordered coffee. When it arrived, James nodded toward Toni’s left hand. As though Toni knew what he would ask, he pulled down the cuff off his shirt just a little, revealing the time-mark.

“Where were you, when it happened?” James asked softly.

Toni looked down at his wrist, and to the row of zeroes that would now mark it for the rest of his life.

“I was in the middle of a meeting.” He answered thoughtfully. “I meant to check the time and then I realized that it had appeared.” 

“How did you feel?”

“Numb. I kept touching it, to check that it was real.” Toni replied, grazing a thumb over it again. “It’s been more than two days now, but I still can’t get my head around the fact that it is, y’know?”

James watched him closely and picked up on the slight waver in the tone of his voice.

“Me too.” James said gently. “I was at work, washing my hands. I think I stared about it for ten minutes, and then for most of the rest of the day. Even when I tried not think about it, everyone kept offering their congratulations and reminding me.”

“Why didn’t you want to think about it?”

James shrugged, crossed his arms, leaned back into his chair. “I don’t know. I guess I was terrified.”

Toni crossed his brows, surprised by the answer. “Terrified? Why were you terrified?”

“Because I knew I’d be at work, and I didn’t know whether you were going to come in with a stroke or a heart attack or half your bones broken from a car accident.” James replied, his expression serious. “I was scared for you. For myself too. Not that it would have made any difference, even if you had been hurt seriously, by the way, ” he explained quickly, “but I was scared. And everyone just kept congratulating me and telling me that it was time to celebrate and that they couldn’t understand why I was so apprehensive. I felt like shit.”

“I was scared too.” Toni admitted. “For different reasons, maybe, but I know what you mean about other people.”

“Different reasons?” 

Toni didn’t answer for a few moments, and wondered how best to explain. Sami’s words came back to him, unbidden. _Be open, be honest_.

“I don’t know. I always figured that because it hadn’t happened to me by now, it was probably never going to happen, so I stopped waiting.” He began cautiously. “I gave up waiting for my time-mark a long time ago. Long ago enough that I stopped hoping I was wrong. Everyone was used to me being alone and I guess I grew used to it too. So when my time-mark appeared, I had to re-evaluate this thing that I took as the biggest given in my life. It was just – strange.”

James watched him as he spoke, watched Toni’s expression become steel despite the frankness of his words and he knew that he had hit upon something sensitive.

It was sensitive for him as well.

“Not easy, is it?” James asked gently.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m 26, Toni. I’ve had a few of those thoughts myself.”

Toni stared at him blankly across the table and didn’t respond for a few moments. He couldn’t.

Because James understood.

And Toni was sorry that he could because it wasn’t a feeling or an experience that he would wish upon anyone. 

But he _understood_. Toni could count on a single hand the number of people he had encountered who did, and now, one of them was his soulmate.

The universe was either playing a cruel joke on him, or overcompensating in the extreme.

“And what did you do, when you found out that I had only cut my hand?” Toni asked, voice swaying.

“I relaxed, for about two or three minutes. And then, before I came in to the room to find you, I started getting nervous for other reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe I wouldn’t be what you were expecting?” James said shyly.

Then and there, something surged in Toni’s chest. He studied it for a few moments, turned it over like an object in his hands, and eventually, he came to recognize the surge for what it was.

Affection.

Toni thought back to the anxiety, and fear, and bitterness of every minute of the twenty-four hours between the board meeting and the emergency room, and he felt like a fool because this person, this sweet and gentle person in front of him, didn’t warrant a single one of those feelings.

“Well,” Toni replied, fighting back a smile. “I certainly wasn’t expecting quite so many needles. I’m avoiding kitchen knives for a while.” 

“Good idea.” James grinned, and then he paused before adding, “and thank you, by the way.” 

“For what?” 

“For being honest with me. I appreciate it, how candid you’ve been.”

“Honestly? I’m not usually like this.” Toni admitted.

“Then it means all the more.”

They sat in contented silence for a few moments, and then, from outside the restaurant, a church bell began to chime. Toni looked down at his watch and realized that it was midnight, and when he looked up, he saw that they were the last two people in the whole restaurant.

“Christ. Do they bring the bill to the table, here?”

James dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about, it’s fine. I took care of the bill.”

Toni froze. “What? When?” 

“I arranged it yesterday, when I made the booking.” James explained, smiling wryly. “And don’t look at me like that. You’ll have the rest of our lives to pay me back.”

* * *

Toni insisted on walking James home, despite his protests about the lateness of the hour. It was a short walk back to James’ place from the restaurant, ten minutes or so, and they passed it by talking about their respective days at work tomorrow.

They eventually arrived at a small row of houses that resembled the rest of the neighbourhood, all red-bricked and cozy looking. James stopped outside the door of the third house and fumbled for his keys. When he found them, he looked to Toni.

“Thank you.”

“Please. You recommended the place, and what to eat, and then you paid without telling me. I should be the one thanking you.”

“I meant for the evening. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.” Toni replied softly.

They went quiet, hovering outside James’ door, both their minds on the same thing and wondering whether the other was thinking about it too, and which of them had the guts to do it. 

Without warning, James closed the two steps of distance that separated them and pressed a soft, chaste kiss into Toni’s lips. His lips lingered, brushing shyly against Toni’s, and then he kissed him again with a little more yearning.

Everything in Toni’s body protested when James eventually pulled away.

James smiled shyly. “Just in case you had any ideas about shaking my hand again.”

“Never again.” Toni declared wondrously. 

“Good.”

And this time, Toni kissed him, and tasted the red wine and panna cotta and burgeoning desire off his lips. Cold air billowed around them and Toni couldn’t have cared less because James had wound his arms around Toni’s neck, the incense and cinnamon scent of him lighting a warmth that coursed through Toni’s body.

He pulled away but their faces remained close, their lips barely an inch apart.

“Listen,” Toni said, “I’m going away for a week for work. I get back next Friday. Can I see you then?” 

“Of course. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

“Can I call you in the meanwhile? While I’m away?” 

James smiled, and Toni’s heart could have burst. 

“You better.”

James eventually left him and went inside. He made a beeline for his bed and fell onto it, smiling into the sheets.He fell asleep almost immediately, and slept peacefully for the first time in almost three nights. 

Toni hailed a taxi home, and when he entered his apartment half an hour later, his lips still burned as though James had kissed them moments rather than minutes ago. He went to bed thinking about James, and he fell asleep hoping that James was thinking about him too. 


	4. The happy ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of firsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Holy shit, it's done. I'm not normally good at finishing things. I can't believe it's actually done.  
> 2\. Last chapter, I promised y'all a fluff-fest. I mostly stuck to my word, but a bit of smut snuck its way into the story. I hope you don't mind (and the rating has been upped accordingly).  
> 3\. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it - I really do <3
> 
> And a special note to the anon who left the prompt that set this whole thing off: please, if you're reading this fic at all, comment so I can shower you with love and gratitude for such a beautiful prompt!

The first time that Toni missed James came quickly. Too quickly for his liking, The realization dawned on him like a punch to the gut, in the middle of dinner with Cris during the business trip, and it scared him a little.

Well.

It scared him a lot.

“You’ve been acting a bit strange.” Cris observed delicately, carving into his steak.

“Have I?” Toni replied, unsure whether it was true, or whether his loathing for these trips was simply more obvious than usual.

Because Toni hated business trips. This particular trip had been pencilled into his diary for a year, and it had been confirmed in ink for six months. It was no different from the others – a week and a half of one tedious appointment after another with advertisers in Paris, Berlin, and Brussels.

And despite the fact that Toni’s responsibilities within the magazine had nothing to do with advertising or finance, Cris insisted on his presence. He insisted because there were rare occasions when his charm failed to sway a room full of businessmen with purse strings tighter than their assholes. In those rare occasions, Toni’s icy demeanour and steely nerves often did the trick.

“Yeah. You have. Oddly quiet.”

“I thought I was always quiet.”

And he knew he was more quiet than usual on these trips, precisely because he hated them. They were repetitive in the worst possibly way, their itineraries a rush of taxis between airports and offices and meeting rooms and conference calls till they reached the end of the day, exhausted and talked out, and collapsed in their hotel rooms so they could do the same thing the next day. Toni hated them but he went anyway, because he had no excuse not to go.

Only now, he had a reason to stay in Madrid. A good one. It had jet-black hair and a smile like honey and a kiss that had kept him up for half the night. And Paris and Berlin and Brussels, with all their charms, couldn’t compete. 

Toni had returned home after dinner with James, his heart still racing with something worryingly close to hope, and packed for the trip with a heavier heart than usual. He folded shirts and suits into his suitcase and contemplated pulling the first sick day of his entire life. Toni wondered whether Benni could be bribed into writing him a medical certificate.

“Yeah, I know you’re usually quiet.” Cris conceded. “But it’s different this time. You seem kind of distracted.”

Toni knifed into his potatoes and didn’t reply immediately. He wore his privacy like armour, and having a boss as perceptive as Cris was annoying.

“You can tell me, you know.” Cris added gently.

Only Toni wasn’t so sure that he could. The answers that crossed his mind in reply felt inadequate, like blunt tools for sharp feelings, better suited to the mouth of a lovesick twelve year old than a grown man. He knew words, phrases, individual components of appropriate sentences, but he couldn’t string any of them together in any order that properly reflected how he felt. Articulating the muddle of hope and hesitation in his chest was like trying to use a language that he had grown up hearing, but which he had never himself attempted to speak.

“I’m fine. Seriously. Don’t worry about me.” He promised. “This is a decent place, by the way. The steak’s good.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Cris said. He nodded in the direction of Toni’s wrist, where the top of the zeroes peeked out from under the cuff of his shirt. “Does your mood have anything to do with that, by any chance?”

“Are you going to believe me if I say no?”

“Not at all.”

Toni took a sip of his wine before finally answering. “Fine. It possibly does.”

“I won’t pry -– but just tell me, friend to friend, so I know whether you’re okay and whether I need to send you home, in case you’re not – did everything go alright?”

 _Hah_ , Toni thought humourlessly. _Did it ever_.

Because it had gone better than alright, better than well, better than every hope that he had tried to fight down but nursed anyway. It had gone so well that Toni had to keep reminding himself that they had only met twice, and that they barely knew each other.

It worried Toni, that James didn’t feel like a stranger even though he was.  And it was an uneasy feeling, missing him and being afraid of that very fact.

But he wasn’t having an easy time admitting any of this to himself, so he refrained from unleashing it on Cris.

“Yeah. I guess. It went alright.”

“Just alright?”

“It went well.” Toni corrected himself quietly. “It’s given me a lot to think about it.”

Cris relaxed, smiled, and raised his glass to Toni. “Good. I’m happy to hear it.”

“Thanks.”

“You deserve it. I hope he deserves you.”

Toni clinked his glass against Cris’, and mused on the number of toasts that had been made in his honour over the last few days.

Instead of prying any further, Cris began telling him the story of how he met Ricky, his own soulmate, who occasionally came by to the office with dinner for Cris when he was working late. Ricky had been 18 and Cris had been 16, and their teams had met in the final of an inter-school football tournament. Cris’ mother wouldn’t let him speak to Ricky for two years, till he turned 18, because she wanted Cris to focus on doing well at school. Ricky had been respectful of her decision ( _way_ _more so than I ever was_ , Cris reflected), and since then, Ricky had been the calm to his storm.

Hesitantly, Toni reciprocated with an abridged version of how he met James. He told Cris about Basti’s sudden appearance that morning, slicing open his hand instead of the orange, the two injections, and how they had spent several minutes in each other’s company before acknowledging why they were really there.

But Toni didn’t tell him everything. Toni didn’t tell him about the look of concentration on James’ face as he worked, or the way that James had swiped his thumb over Toni’s time-mark, once, twice, awed, or the way that Toni still worried about what James would make of the ricocheting pulse that he must have felt under his fingertips that day.

Those details, he kept to himself, locked in his chest like gold, for him and only him to enjoy when he was alone.

\--

James finished work at three, finished his dinner at half past five, and finished the last DVD of the Sopranos box set that Marcelo had lent him at ten. He sat on his couch, the credits rolling in the background, and resigned himself to the fact that he would have to re-watch the last four episodes again. He couldn’t remember a single word of any of them. His mind was in Paris instead, with Toni and whatever he was doing.

Except -- he didn’t know what Toni was doing, because they hadn’t talked properly since their date. He had sent Toni a brief message the next morning, wishing him safe travels and good luck, and Toni had replied with something equally safe and nondescript.

But that was it. That was all. And the contrast between the liveliness of their date and this _silence_ made James feel nervous.

James liked to think that he was sensible. He knew, objectively, that Toni had probably been busy rushing in and out of meetings all day. He was probably exhausted, too, and James figured that he would probably fall comatose on his bed the moment he returned to his hotel room. He knew all these things.

But for all his reasoning, and all his objectivity, and all his good sense, James couldn’t quite convince himself that everything was okay, and worry clung onto the back of his every thought like dried glue. He had looked at his cell-phone so frequently at work, waiting for a call or a message or something from Toni, _anything_ , that Luka had intervened and confiscated it off him.

More than anything, he felt ridiculous because all he wanted to do was _talk_ , and about nothing in particular. He wanted to ask Toni about his day, and to tell him about his own. He wanted to know what Toni was doing tomorrow. They were tiny details, the meaningless mundanities of their lives, but James wanted them because he needed to hear Toni’s voice. He needed a reminder that Toni – and everything he had felt since they had kissed – was real.

James eventually picked up the phone but dialled Iker’s number out of reflex. Sergio answered the call, prodded Iker awake, and handed the phone over to him.

 “Mmmf. James. What.”

“This is probably nothing,” James began, his concerns tumbling out of his mouth before he could phrase them better, “but - he hasn’t called me? At all? I haven’t heard from him in almost two days and I don’t know what’s going on.”

There was a long pause down the other end of the line, followed by Iker’s exhausted sigh.

“Jesus Christ. I can’t believe you woke me up for this shit. Look, James -- you like the guy?”

“Yes.”

“The date went well?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk to him?”

“Well -– yes -– “

“Then what the fuck are you calling me for? Call _him_.”

\--

Toni returned to his hotel room in slightly better spirits, but his mind was still at the restaurant, still at the dinner table, still on the sudden realization that had hit him over the main course. He missed James. He knew what he needed to do.

Doing it, on the other hand, was another question. Nerves paused his fingers when he was halfway done dialling James’ number. He made a cup of coffee to give himself something to do in the meanwhile, and his mind raced.

The longer he thought, the more irrational his thoughts became. He went from worrying about whether James would be asleep by now, to whether it would be too soon after their date to call, to whether he had overestimated how well the date had gone in the first place, to whether maybe, he might have imagined the whole thing.

Toni worried that even though he had found his soul-mate, and even though the system always worked, maybe it had broken for him. [He had spent his entire life being the exception, and shaking off that instinct was going to be neither quick nor easy.]

He was still in his suit. He figured he should probably get changed. He sat on his bed and held his phone, staring at it, trying to summon the bravery to make the damn call.

The phone suddenly began vibrating of its own accord. James’ name appeared on the screen, like an answer to a prayer that Toni hadn’t made yet. He answered.

“James?”

“Toni. Hey.”

“How are you?.”

“I'm fine. Am I calling too late?”

“No, no at all. I was just –- “ And Toni paused, his mind running over the best way to end that sentence. _Having a shower? Getting into bed? Reading?_ He decided to dismiss all of them, and settled for the truth instead. “Actually, I was just thinking about calling you.”

* * *

On their second date, they stayed up talking all night.

Toni arrived back in Madrid on Friday afternoon. They agreed to meet on Friday night at a Vietnamese place in the centre of Madrid, another of James’ recommendations. Toni couldn’t have cared less where they ate. They had talked every night since that first call, and food was the last thing on his mind.

He walked to the restaurant, flipping coins in his mind about _do I kiss him_ or _do I hug him_ or _do I wait till the end of the night_. He arrived at the restaurant, another small place off a hidden alley, and noticed James waiting for him outside. Only this time, when James noticed him, he didn’t smile and wave. Without a trace of hesitation in his motions, James kissed him, just as he had the other night. Then he kissed him again for good measure.

Not for the first time, Toni was grateful that the universe had paired him with someone braver than he was.

“Hey you.” Toni said softly.

“Hey yourself.” James smiled, brushing his lips against Toni’s. “Look at you.”

“What?”

“Whenever I kiss you, you give me this look afterwards. Like you’re surprised. Are you going to keep doing that?”

Even as colour crested his cheeks, Toni couldn’t help but smile back. “Probably. It might take a while. Bear with me.”

They went inside and ordered dinner, and like their first date, they talked till they lost track of the hour. They talked well past midnight, and it took a conspicuous cough from the manager for them to realize that they were the only two people left in the restaurant, that the music had been switched off, and that there were waiters loitering near their table to clear their plates.

Toni paid amid vocal protests from James, which only stopped when Toni agreed to move onto a bar so that James could buy him a drink. Toni didn’t protest. A drink was always welcome, and a drink in the company of James even more so.

So they delayed going home once.

James led him to a dive bar, the route to which took them down alleyways that Toni had never walked through before. The alleyways were narrow and as they walked, their hands bumped into each other. The touches were accidental, for the most part, but neither of them did a thing to stop them.

After a while, Toni began to feel a phantom ache in his hand, and it occurred to him that he could simply reach out for James hand, and hold it. He decided to do so before he could talk himself out of it. James was in the middle of a story about a patient he had seen that morning when Toni reached for his palm and threaded their fingers together, and tightly. James continued talking, as though nothing had happened, but he tightened his clasp on Toni’s hand.

Toni didn’t really hear the rest of the story.

As they walked into the bar, Toni spied Lukas and Basti inside. He noticed them first, but sure enough, they noticed him too, and their mouths dropped with glee as they noticed first, James, and second, their entwined hands. Toni caught Lukas’ eye, gave him a small smile, and a barely perceptible shake of the head which he hoped that Lukas would interpret as a _hi-hello-yes-I-can-see-you-do-not-approach-stay-away-for-now_. James didn’t notice a thing and ordered them drinks.

They found a table and Toni intentionally sat with his back to Lukas and Basti, so that he could focus his entire attention on James. And even though he knew that there were two pairs of eyes on him, it was surprisingly easy to do. They talked ceaselessly because there was still so much to learn, so much history to cover. Each story branched out to three others, or mentioned a new name that needed a further explanation.

At half past two, the bartender called out for last drinks. The time had run away from them again. They left the bar and stood outside it, hovering.

“It’s almost three.” James observed, looking down at his watch.

The natural end to that sentence was _I should probably be getting back_ , but James said nothing.

And maybe it was the hour or the alcohol, but Toni took that as encouragement, whether it was intended as such or not.

“You know what?” He said. “I’m not particularly tired.”

“Me neither.”

“Anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“No. Lead the way.”

So they delayed going home twice.

Toni led him to San Ginés, a dozy little chocolatier’s that was open for twenty-four hours, and the only place that Toni ever normally frequented past midnight. They found a booth and ordered churros and hot chocolate, because the hour called for something indulgent, and they kept talking.  Then they ordered a second round of churros, because it turned out that both of them were terrible at sharing fried-dough pastries.

And maybe because most of Toni’s conversations for the past week had been as engaging as stale bread, or maybe because it was a godless hour of the morning, but Toni felt an unfettered kind of happiness. His only frustration was that James sat across the table from him. The length of a small table was closer than the distance between Paris and Madrid, but for now, it felt too far away.

They talked until the soft yellow lighting inside the café gave way to beams of sunlight from outside. Daybreak came and James let out an almighty yawn, before giving Toni a sleepy, apologetic smile and declaring that he should probably go home. Toni knew he had no right to complain, because it was 7am and they had spent twelve straight hours in each other’s company, but he could have happily spent another twelve hours in the same way.

They left San Ginés and kissed outside in the near-empty street, the day breaking over them. Toni, with his inhibitions at their weakest, quietly admitted to James that he had missed him, though he kept the details of precisely how much to himself for now. James made Toni promise to call him that night - not two nights later, and not to wait for James to call him first. _That night_.

James caught a taxi home, and Toni caught a taxi to Sami’s. It was Saturday morning, and Saturday morning meant breakfast at Sami’s before seven-a-side football.  He asked the driver to take him back to his own place for a few minutes, and he sprinted upstairs to fetch his sports bag while the taxi waited for him outside his apartment building.

He arrived at Sami’s and knocked on the door, and in the few moments it took for someone to answer it, Toni reflected that he should have at least washed his face. He might have felt like a million bucks, but he probably didn’t look it.  

Lukas opened the door, gave Toni the once-over, and his eyes narrowed immediately,

“Toni.”

It came out like an accusation.

“Yes?”

“That’s exactly what you were wearing last night.”

“No?” Toni answered, feebly.

“Yes. Yes it fucking is.” Lukas stepped aside and allowed Toni inside, locking the door behind him. “I hate that sweater. I pointed it out to Basti last night when we saw you. And you’re still wearing it.”

“Fine. It’s the same outfit as last night.”

“Did you spend the night at loverboy’s?”

Toni chucked his bag onto one of the couches and they made their way to the kitchen. “No, I didn’t. We were out in town, talking. That was it. I swear.”

“Is that Toni?” Sami called out, just as they walked in.

The other five were gathered around the kitchen island, delving into the small feast of cereals and breads and cheeses and spreads that Mesut prepared for them each Saturday morning.

“Yeah, it’s Toni. And look at him.” Lukas replied, returning to his stool and his cup of tea. “Mr ‘we-need-at-least-8-hours-of-sleep-before-every-game’ over here stayed up till the early hours of the morning with his boyfriend. I don’t think he went to sleep at all.”

Basti glanced at Toni over his toast. “Is this true?”

Toni nodded, and decided that if he wasn’t going to deny it, then he might as well own it. He reached for a muffin and took a bite and gave Basti his frankest maybe-it-is-and-what-the-fuck-are- _you_ -going-to-do-about-it look.

Basti shook his head, captain mode fully engaged. “Look, Toni, I’m really happy you’re falling in love and all. And I love, you. I do. But if you fuck up a cross or a corner-kick today and we lose because of it, you’re dead to me. Got it?”

Toni nodded, and took another unrepentant bite of his muffin.

They played the match and Toni didn’t fuck up, at all. In fact, he did quite the opposite. He scored their first two goals and assisted their third, a scorcher by Mats. By half-time, the score was 4-0. By the end, it was 6-0. It was a massacre, and Basti was delighted.

On the ride home, he told Toni that whatever he had been up doing the night before must have worked, and that from now on, he was to spend the night before every game doing it again. Toni smiled out the window, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t need an excuse to stay up talking all night with James, but it was nice to have one all the same.

* * *

The first time they said ‘I love you’ was something of an accident.

At the beginning, Toni counted everything. Their first date, their second date, their third kiss, the fourth time they held hands. But at some point, their dates and kisses and contact became regular, and Toni’s bewilderment at the fact that it was happening gave way to his enjoyment of the fact that it _was_. At that point – and Toni wasn’t sure exactly when it came – he stopped counting.

But he counted tonight, because tonight was another first – the first time James would have dinner at his place, and in fact, the first time James would visit his place all. Toni had left work at three and spent a large part of the afternoon on the phone to Mesut, leeching advice. He was a decent cook by any measure, but he knew enough about James to know that the boy had a sophisticated palate.

Mesut told him to calm down and assured him that he’d be fine, but the comfort fell on deaf ears as Toni asked him another question about meat thermometers.

James arrived early, forcing Toni to open the door with an apron on, which amused James to no end. He told James to make himself at home and returned to the kitchen, leaving James to acquaint himself with the place.

Toni was very fond of his home. It was big but it wasn’t huge, modern but homely. Everything was pristine, coloured in creams and accents of black, and Toni had spent an inordinate amount of time perfecting it. James seemed impressed. Toni tried not to look too pleased with himself.

James wandered around and touched things and picked things up, asking Toni questions as he went. He admired the wall-to-wall bookshelves and quizzed Toni about how many of the books he had actually read (nowhere near enough). Then he went through Toni’s CD stacks and made fun of Toni for -- well -- still owning CDs at all. He asked about the ornaments and knick-knacks strewn all over the place, and Toni told him stories about the places he had acquired them, and the people he had acquired them from.

Then James thought to open the curtains and he saw the view out over Madrid. It stunned him into silence for a few moments.

Toni watched him fondly and tried to still the bliss that mounted in his chest. It was normally the most mundane activity of his week, making dinner at home on a Wednesday night. Toni had never really looked forward to a Wednesday night before – and yet, here he was. He committed the sight of James in his home to his memory, and marvelled at the way he had made himself at home so quickly.

James eventually joined him in the kitchen, replacing Toni’s music with a playlist of his own. He got Toni to listen to his favourite songs – _no Olly Murs_ , he warned - and told him about the memories that were attached to each one.The music animated him as he reminisced about his parents’ old cassette tapes and swapping burned CDs with his friends in high school. Toni enjoyed music, but he began sensing that he didn’t enjoy it anywhere near as much as James did. He chopped vegetables for the salad and listened to him speak, charmed.

Then James had a glass of wine, and he began dancing a little as he talked. Then he poured himself a second glass, and asked Toni to dance with him too.

Toni laughed, shook his head, and shook the spatula in his hand as well for extra effect.

“No. No way. Absolutely and categorically not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“James, _no_.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t dance. At _all_.”

“You can’t possibly be that bad.”

Toni thought back to the few occasions in his life when he had danced – the party after Sami’s admission to the bar, Mats and Benni’s wedding, and Basti’s thirtieth birthday. There was video evidence of all three occasions that would testify to how bad he was, but James didn’t need to see it.

“Just – trust me on this one.”

“Okay, let’s say that I accept for a second that you’re bad at dancing. Which I won’t, until I see you dancing. What’s the worst that could happen, if you danced?”

 “You’ll flee my house, and then you’ll delete my number off your phone.” Toni answered, feigning seriousness. “It’s that bad. Trust me. I’m doing you a favour here.”

They talked and laughed and made fun of each other and Toni felt like a teenager anyway. The shyness of their first two-dozen dates had gone away and he had stopped waiting for things to go wrong.  He stopped worrying about doing or saying something to lose James, and allowed himself to take James’ presence as a given, and to simply enjoy that fact.

He was no longer as shy in touching James either. Or kissing him.

And James liked being kissed, a lot, even in the middle of a kitchen, with three pots on the stove. Toni had to pull himself away at one point, reluctantly, because he could smell the soup almost burning.

“Fuck the soup.” James whined, only half-joking.

Toni tasted it and decided that it was salvageable.

“I can’t fuck the soup. Poor Mesut spent twenty minutes coaching me about it over the phone.” And then he remembered something else. “Ah, also. Sami’s planning a dinner party next weekend and you’re invited. Everyone wants to meet you.”

“Next weekend?”

“Yeah. I keep talking about you. They keep demanding proof that you actually exist.”

Toni had spent enough time in James’ company by now to pick up on the slighter shifts in his mood. He went a bit quieter, his smile faltered just a bit – almost imperceptibly – and he bit down on his lip.

“All of them?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Toni replied, washing his hands clean and drying them so that he could pull James to him, which he did. He pressed his lips to James’ forehead. “And don’t worry. They’ll love you.”

“And if they don’t?”

“It won’t matter, because I do.”

James stood perfectly still, and stared at him.

And only then did Toni realize what he had blurted out loud.

_Oh, shit._

_Oh shit, shit, shit_.

“Just so we’re on the same page -- ” James began slowly, eyes wide. “Was that you saying that you love me?”

For a moment, Toni thought about qualifying his words, softening them so that they somehow meant something else. Because ‘I love you’, however indirectly expressed, was another first – and it was a big one. The biggest one. Sami had debated for a month and a half with himself and with Toni over the right moment to say it to Mesut. And yet here was Toni, baring his heart in the middle of his kitchen before dinner, with a fucking _apron_ on.

He was terrible at this. This was as bad as the handshake.

 _No,_ Toni thought to himself in a moment of revelation. _This is worse. You have somehow topped the handshake. Congratulations._

But it was also the truth, and that was probably why it had spilled out like water from his hands. He hadn’t said it out loud before but he had thought it. It was often the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep, and the first thing he thought of in the morning. And as soon as Toni acknowledged that fact, he knew there was no denying what he had said.

“Yeah. I think it was. I love you.”

Toni searched James’ face for clues as to what he was feeling and found absolutely nothing. Only after several moments – each of which felt like an age to Toni – did his lips finally curve upwards, to Toni’s utter relief.

Even if there was something amused in his smile.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you love me in the middle of your kitchen, with Daddy Yankee on the stereo, just after you’ve burnt the soup?”

Toni winced a little. “God, well, when you put it like that -- yeah, I am”

James laughed, cupped Toni’s face, and pulled him in for a kiss so deep that Toni’s heartbeat hammered loud enough to drown out the music in his ears.

“So I didn’t say it too soon?” Toni murmured, brushing each word against James’ lips.

“No. God no.”

“You’re sure?”

 “I’m sure. I think I love you too.”

* * *

The first time they had sex was equally spontaneous.

They had planned to go out for dinner, and decided to meet at Toni’s apartment first. In the half hour between James’ arrival and the time they planned for the taxi to arrive, the heavens opened up and rain flooded down on Madrid. It rained hard enough for them to reconsider going out at all. Toni checked the weather online, and noted that the rain was set to last for a couple of hours. At least.

He was about to suggest a game of Fifa when suddenly, James brushed his lips against Toni skin, above the back of his collar. Immediately, shudders blossomed down to the rest of Toni’s body, and he figured that Fifa could wait for another day.  Gingerly, James placed his hands at Toni’s hips and pressed down a second, firmer kiss. It had intent. Toni knew what he wanted.

He turned around, cupped the lines of James’ jaw, tilted his face up, and paused. James waited for him, lips parted just slightly, but Toni needed to look at him for a moment, to see his face. Desire curled warm in his chest.

“I thought you said you were hungry,” Toni said, voice low.

“Dinner can wait.”

And Toni wasn’t about to refuse. “Fine by me.”

“But listen -– you should know –- “ James said, shyness creeping back into his voice. “I’m not –- I’ve done this before. I hope that’s okay”

Toni smiled and kissed the needless guilt off his lips.

“I don’t care. So have I. I don’t care if I’m your first or your five-hundredth. All that matters is that you’re here, with me, now.”

James relaxed enough to raise an eyebrow. “Five- _hundredth_? Really?”

“I’m just saying.” Toni grinned.

He took James’ hand and led him wordlessly to the bedroom. The rest unravelled quickly after that.

They left a trail of clothing all the way from the door of Toni’s bedroom to his bed, till the back of James’s knees bumped into the mattress and he sat down, pulling Toni onto his lap. Toni slipped a hand between James’ legs, felt him tremble at the touch, and palmed firmly over the tent in his boxer briefs. James breathed jaggedly whenever Toni’s lips gave him a moment, the space between them electric with the knowledge of what they were about to do.

James let Toni touch him, let him sink to the floor between his legs and relieve him of his underwear. James was hard already. They both were.

He watched from under heavy-lidded eyes as Toni pressed his lips reverently to the zeroes on James’ wrist, the dip of his sternum and the soft curve of his belly. Toni grazed James’ nipple, first with his thumb and then with the tip of his tongue, before blowing cool air against it so that James shivered in response. Toni marvelled at the fact that his touch could have such an effect on this boy.

James was a roused mess, his lips parted and his pupils dilated in way that Toni had never seen before. His whole body was tense with desire, like a compressed spring under Toni’s thumb. Toni thought to himself that he could get used to this. He could worship at the shrine of this one all night.

James’ hands curled around Toni’s neck, his thumbs tilting Toni’s face upwards so that James could brush lips against the line of his jaw. James kissed him urgently as Toni traced fingertips south of James’ bellybutton, at the crease where his thighs met his body, and at the top of the inside of his legs. Toni’s touch ventured no further, hovering around the one place where he knew James ached to be touched but keeping just away from it, unravelling him. He teased at James’ skin with his fingers till his breath became ragged. James’ dick twitched in the air between them and he muffled a weak sound in Toni’s lips, his hips buckling under the strain.

James’s brows creased with his arousal. He looked like he was almost in pain. It was delicious.

“Toni – _please_ _\--_ ”

But Toni wasn’t done teasing him. He wouldn’t touch him just yet and so James, aching for relief, gave in and curled a fist around himself. He ran his fingers along his shaft, swiped at the top of his cock with the pad of his thumb, and Toni let him do it for a few moments so he could watch, his own arousal spiking.

Then he caught James’ wrist sharply in his hand, earning a frustrated groan out of him, and pinned it back against the sheet. Before James could work out what he was going to do, Toni licked a line up the base of his cock before taking it between his lips and sucking on the tip. His mouth pulled a sound out of James – a low, long, muted _ohhh_ –  that Toni could have listened to for the whole night. James gave up, lay back on the bed, eyes closed, fingers threaded in Toni’s hair, his hips rising off the bed into Toni’s palm and the warm heat of his mouth.

Toni’s own arousal sharpened the closer he pulled James to the brink, the more messily his name tumbled from James’ lips. It sharpened till he could barely focus, till the heat between his legs radiated throughout the rest of his body and threatened to engulf him.

He ran his thumb against the cleft of James’ ass to see how he would react, and James shuddered as though Toni had surged voltage through him. He released a sweet, breathless _fuck_ into the air.

Toni let James’ cock slide from between his lips, which earned a sharp protest, and watched him closely,

“James? Are you sure?”

James nodded adamantly and Toni, dizzied, got off the floor and went to the side of the bed for the lube and condoms in his nightstand. As he rifled around in the drawer, James calmed himself down enough to sit up. On his knees, he inched closer to Toni, and met his gaze as he slipped a hand shamelessly into Toni’s boxers. The look in his eyes was pure, molten desire, and it turned Toni’s thoughts into slush.

Toni steadied himself against the corner of the nightstand as James curled a tighter fist around him and nipped at the skin on his neck. He didn’t think it was possible for the ache in him to deepen but it did, halfway blinding him in its intensity, because _jesus fuck_ , James knew what he was doing with that hand of his.

Eventually, he collected himself just enough to find what he was looking for, but James let go of him and pulled the condom from his hands.

“What are you doing?” Toni murmured breathlessly.

“Shush. Let me.”

Toni watched as James ripped into the wrapper with his teeth, and he realized what he was going to do only half a second before James started doing it.

And Toni wasn’t sure where James had learned to roll on a condom using his lips like that, but it turned his legs to liquid. He’d have to ask him to do that again.

James sat up, caught Toni’s lips between his own, kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do. They fell back onto the sheets with Toni on top, James rolling his hips upwards against the inside of Toni’s thigh to ease the ache.

Toni slicked his hands, slicked James, and watched as his lips curled in a muted gasp when Toni eased into him. And James felt good, so fucking good _,_ that Toni had to pause for a moment, for himself as much as for James.

James urged him on with a breathless _keep going_ and Toni moved deeply in him again, the angle of his thrust pulling a sound from between James’ lips that was halfway between a gasp and a moan. It set Toni’s nerves on fire. He moved again and the next moan came out sharper, needier, and Toni rocked deeper into him in response. They fucked like a race to the bottom, each thrust pulling a needful sound out of James, rolling Toni’s hips all the deeper, which pulled sweeter sounds from James’ throat still.

And Toni wouldn’t take his eyes off James. He couldn’t. The image of James hitched the breath in his chest. His arms were spread above his head, in the direction of the headboard, and his eyes were closed. Heat flushed his cheeks with colour and reddened his lips. Each push from Toni sunk him a little further into the mattress but his head tilted back, arching his neck upwards into the air – and Toni couldn’t resist it. He leaned down over James, brought their bodies closer still, and kissed the exposed skin below his jaw.

James moved one hand to the back of Toni’s neck and the other to the small of his back, urging him to keep going, so Toni did. Moans and incomplete pleas fell from James’ lips to Toni’s ears, a litany of breathless _yes_ es and pleases and _don’t stop_ s and _Toni_.

Softness gave way to urgency, and gentleness gave way to need. Toni felt James’ body tighten underneath him like a rising tide, a spring on the verge of release, and he came with a loud gasp and sharp upwards buck of the hips.

His body shook underneath Toni’s, and moments later, the force of the tremor pushed Toni off his own edge.

They remained still for a moment, shaking, recovering before James moved first and pressed his lips just above Toni’s ear.

“Holy shit.” He murmured lazily.

Toni laughed tiredly into the warm skin of James’ shoulders.

“Yeah. That.”

He leaned up onto his elbows and their eyes met. James looked sated, spent, _happy_ , his smile a reflection of Toni’s. Toni kissed him deeply, brushing a thumb from the corner of his lips and across his cheeks. James _hmmm_ ed into the touch and wound his arms around the back of Toni’s neck, pulling him closer, because it seemed like they could never kiss deeply enough these days.

They stayed up talking for a long time afterwards. Toni sat up and leaned back against the headboard with James in his arms, his legs over Toni’s thighs, head cradled against his shoulder. The proximity felt as good as the sex, but the satisfaction came for different reasons. Toni held James and his bed suddenly felt warmer and safer than it ever had in three years of sleeping alone. 

At midnight, James’ stomach rumbled loudly. Toni looked at him, alarmed, but James told him to ignore it. A few minutes later, it rumbled again – a low, ugly sound to indicate that although James had forgotten about dinner, his stomach sure as hell hadn’t.

Eventually, they untangled themselves from each other and got up to find food. Toni found a pair of loose track-pants and an old t-shirt, and he threw them to James, who put them on.

James caught Toni watching him and smirked.

“What?”

“You look better in these old, tatty things than I look in a three-piece suit.” Toni protested, his tone somewhere between resentment and wonder.

James laughed and stretched out like cat, loosening his muscles.

“Come on, old man. Feed me.”

The rain had stopped by now, but they weren’t in any state to go out. Toni called the Indian take-out place two streets away, and James’ stomach continued to gripe violently until the food arrived twenty minutes later.

They sat and ate on the floor in front of the television, which Toni had switched to a sports channel. A replay between Arsenal and Chelsea blared quietly in the background as they talked over onion bhaji and butter chicken and lamb biryani. They argued about the last piece of naan and the January transfer window until the clock struck two and their eyes grew heavy. Then they went to bed, and James fell asleep against Toni’s body within moments, an arm slung dozily across his belly.

Toni’s last few thoughts before his own tiredness overcame him were that this was good.

This was nice.

He could definitely get used to this.

* * *

The first time that James met the group, he was more nervous than Toni expected him to be.

They had fallen into the habit of reaching for each other’s hands whenever they were together in public. In the lift up to Sami and Mesut’s, Toni figured out that James was nervous because he was gripping onto Toni’s hand several fractions more tightly than usual. James was also quiet, and that was unusual as well.

Toni didn’t blame him. The prospect of meeting a best friend was terrifying, so the prospect of meeting six at a time must have been a particular sort of hell. (Toni knew because they were invited to dinner at Iker and Sergio’s in a week’s time; he was battling the same kind of anxiety himself).

He had told James that he could meet all of them two by two, or even one by one if he preferred. James had insisted on getting all the meetings out of the way in one go, but Toni wondered whether James was now reconsidering his choice.

He raised their interlocked fingers to his lips instead, and kissed the top of James’ knuckles. James caught his eye in their reflection on the back of the lift door and gave him a small, grateful smile.

“They’ll love you.” Toni promised.

“I hope so.”

“But I am sorry, in advance.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know yet, but I know them. They’ll probably say or do something embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for you or embarrassing for me?”

“Probably the former. Definitely the former, actually. But I can’t rule out the latter.”

“They sound like an interesting bunch.”

“I’d use other words to describe them.” Toni said briefly, grinning.

They arrived at the fifteenth floor and Toni knocked on Sami’s door. As the distinctive sound of Sami’s footsteps approached, Toni squeezed James’ hand tightly one more time for good measure. James squeezed it back in return and took a discreet, deep breath.

Sami opened the door, beaming. Instead of shaking James’ hand, he immediately embraced him like an old friend. The gesture was small but it was generous, and Toni could tell that it put James immediately at ease. Toni could have kissed Sami with gratitude, and for the umpteenth time in his life, he thanked the universe for blessing him with Sami for a best friend.

They were the last to arrive, so when Sami led them to the kitchen, everyone else was already waiting for them.

Immediately - before Toni even had a chance to make the introductions – Basti raised an eyebrow and grinned, mischief in his eyes.

“Well, you weren’t lying, Toni. He’s gorgeous.”

Toni could have died on the spot.

Because _fucking Basti_.

James looked from Basti to Toni, expression curious. “You told them I was gorgeous?”

Toni’s face burned. He had guessed that the embarrassment would start early on in the evening, but he had expected to be given the decency of at least five minutes grace.

“Well,” he replied awkwardly. “You kind of _are_.”

And then, just like that, everyone in the room burst out laughing, united in mirth at Toni’s expense, and Toni could tell that James was going to fit right in.

Eventually, they settled down enough for Toni to make proper introductions. Then he let James drift from person to person, because despite how nervous James had been about meeting everyone, Toni knew that he could connect with absolutely anyone. He figured that if James could put him at ease so effortlessly on their first date, nobody in this room would give him any trouble.

Besides, they had all been desperate to meet him. Toni suspected that James couldn’t put a foot wrong with any of them if he tried.

Toni himself spent most of the night talking to Sami, but kept an occasional eye or ear on James. He heard him talk football with Lukas, books with Mats, and work stuff with Benni. At one point, Basti came up to Toni and declared that he and Lukas were probably going to adopt James. Toni rolled his eyes, but his heart surged with joy anyway. Watching James amongst his best friends was like finding a piece to a puzzle that he hadn’t even known was missing.

Throughout the night, James kept making his way back to Toni, and Toni could tell that the others were taken aback by how physically affectionate they were with each other. James had a habit of reaching for Toni’s hand, or placing a hand on his arm when he laughed, or leading him somewhere with fingertips at his elbow.

And it was bizarre, being physically affectionate with someone else in front of the others in this way. He knew that the sight of it was completely foreign to them, in the same way that the behaviour had been foreign to him, at first. And he knew – _knew_ – that he was going to be in for merciless teasing because of it, if not now then later.

But in an equally bizarre way, he also relished the attention. He liked that for once, they were celebrating something to do with him that had nothing to do with his career. Toni was in love, and he was in love with _being_ in love. Although he normally kept his joys to himself, he was for once happy to let other people be happy for him.

Even if they chose to express their happiness in peculiar ways.

Benni and Basti called James over to them at one point, and the three of the crowded around Basti’s phone. Toni only noticed because Mesut jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow, pointing them out.

“Wait, what are you guys doing?” He asked suspiciously.

“We prepared a little slideshow for James.” Benni answered, and left it at that.

“About what?”

“About you, you idiot.”

“We figured you might have given him an abridged version of your history.” Basti explained. “We wanted to make sure that he got the full deal.”

Toni groaned. It was like having proud but embarrassing parents – except there were six of them. He looked to Mats and Lukas as a last resort. “Can you please rein your husbands under control?”

Mats raised his hands as though to say _keep me out of it_. Lukas shook his head and bit unrepentantly into a samosa. Basti began swiping through the photos, and Benni offered running commentary.

“Right. Okay, here’s Toni, aged 2, in his nudist phase; aged 8, with a bowl-cut, that he voluntarily asked for by the way; aged 12, and the year he forgot to use shampoo; aged 13, and the beginning of a life-long relationship with mild acne; aged 18, and the time he thought he’d try to be cool – “

Toni listened in horror. “Oh, no, not that picture of the faux-hawk.”

“That picture of the faux-hawk.” Benni confirmed.

Sami offered Toni a fresh beer by way of consolation, and Toni took a heartier swallow than usual as Basti and Benni moved on from photos to stories. Within an hour, James learned - amongst other things – that Toni had been a teacher’s pet from first grade to twelfth grade; that when he had received his first detention at 10, he had cried; and that when they broke a neighbour’s window playing football at 13, Toni was so overcome with guilt that he confessed everything to his mother and got them all in trouble.

Toni listened on, mortified. On the other hand, James seemed to be having the time of his life.

\-- 

Sometime after midnight, Toni wandered outside onto the balcony for fresh air. Within moments, James joined him and closed the door behind them. It was cold outside and Toni was wearing warmer clothing, so James held him from behind. He wrapped arms around Toni's waist, and burrowed his face into the warm wool of Toni’s jumper.

“Toni.”

“What?”

“You didn’t tell me you were such a nerd.”

“I knew they’d out me.” Toni replied, leaning back slightly against him. “I figured I might as well let you think I was cool for a few months.”

James giggled into his shoulder. “Yeah, well, the jig’s up.”

“I had a good run. I’m at peace.” Toni grinned, placing his hands over James’.  “You’ve taken that room by storm, by the way. Well done.”

“They’re all incredibly welcoming. And nothing like you, incidentally.”

“I know. They’re all cool and fifty shades of loud. I’m the quiet, sensible one.”

“You mean you’re the nerd.” James corrected him.

“I see Basti’s rubbed off on you.”

“Basti’s my favourite, I think.”

“Just my luck.” Toni replied drily.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Madrid glittering before them, the Cuatro Torres cutting through the skyline. The wind howled a little louder around them and James held onto Toni a little more tightly.

“I’m glad I finally met your group.” James murmured contentedly, after a little while.

“They’re your group too, now.”

* * *

The first time Toni met Sergio and Iker, he was less nervous than he expected to be.

 “I feel like I should warn you about Sergio.” James declared in the car.

“Why?” Toni asked. “Is he going to threaten to break my legs if I hurt you?”

“Nah, Sergio’s not that type.” James replied, grinning to himself as he pulled into their street. “But when he opens the door, he’ll probably jump on you like a man-sized puppy. And then he’ll kiss you on the cheek, multiple times. Nothing to worry about, but just to give you a heads-up.”

“Duly noted. What about Iker?”

“Iker is kind of like my surrogate dad. He’s probably going to give you a hard time at first, but he’ll soften up by the end of the night.”

They got out of the car and walked up the footpath to the front door. Reflexively, Toni reached for his hand.

“And by the way - if you do hurt me?” James said casually, tone teasing.

“Yeah?”

“I’d break your legs myself.”

“You don’t have the heart to pull the legs off a spider.” Toni replied, and then he caught James’ eye seriously for a moment. “But for the record, I don’t plan on testing you like that. Ever.”

James squeezed his hand as he knocked on the door. ”I know.”

Sergio opened the door within moments and, as predicted, pulled Toni in for a hug that was somehow bigger and tighter than James had led him to expect. He kept the kisses to Toni’s cheek at a polite two, but he planted five on James to compensate.

Iker, on the other hand, held back a little bit more. He shook Toni’s hand firmly and left him with the distinct impression that he was going to be sized up.

The four of them sat down to dinner immediately, and Toni quickly picked up that dinner in this household was less of a meal and more of an endurance event. He kept clearing his plate, and Sergio kept asking him if he wanted more food. Whenever Toni politely refused, Sergio piled more food onto his plate anyway.

As they ate, Iker became a one-man Spanish inquisition. He fired question after question in Toni’s direction like a concerned parent, about his work, his family, his friends, his hobbies – and hell, even his financial stability, prompting James to kick Iker under the table. Sergio played the good cop to Iker’s bad cop, asking a genuine, curious question for every one of Iker’s scathing interrogatories.

Toni didn’t mind at all, because he recognised the behaviour for what it was: the exact same grilling that he and the others had once given to Mesut, and then Mats, and then Lukas. Part of it stemmed from the need to gather information about a relative stranger who would soon be a part of everyone’s lives, but another part of it was about making a simple point: _the person you love is loved already. Tread carefully._

They cleared dinner and Toni insisted on helping Iker, earning him a nod of approval from James and an amused wink from Sergio. James leaned against the fridge with his beer and watched as they did the dishes, feeling content. His two favourite people in the world were finally in the same room as his new favourite person, and he could read Iker well enough to know that he already liked Toni. He just might not show it yet.

“So, what are we thinking?” He asked, smiling slyly. “Does Toni pass, or not?”

Sergio raised his hands. “James, if you like him and he makes you happy, that’s good enough for me.”

Iker was almost there, but not quite. He turned to Toni, eyes narrowed, drying a plate. “One final question.”

“Fire away.”

“Real Madrid or Atlético?”

The tone of his voice indicated that any friendship between them hinged entirely on his answer to this question.

James rolled his eyes. “Iker, for god’s sake. ”

“What? I need to know that if we’re watching a derby, his loyalties are in the right place.”

Toni already knew the right answer, of course. The three posters in the hallway, the two mugs hanging above the sink, and the scarf he had noticed on the coat-stand at the door left no doubts as to the allegiance of this household. Happily, it coincided with his own.

“Iker. Please. Hala Madrid.” He answered.

“Y nada más. Y nada más. ” Iker replied, like an amen to a prayer, smiling for the first time that entire night. He shook Toni’s hand and turned to James. “Yeah, he passes. He can stay for dessert.”

They settled with bowls of arroz con leche in front of the fireplace and moved onto more relaxed conversations. Toni had planned to wheedle embarrassing stories about James out of Sergio and Iker, but those plans fizzled out and died within moments. He learned, very quickly, that they could only speak about James in the highest terms.

Mostly, Iker talked about meeting James as a fresh nursing grad, his unflappable enthusiasm, and the way that it had somehow endured till now. He told Toni how around the hospital, James was known as _San James_ , and he gave him three years worth of stories to justify the nickname. Toni listened, rapt, because as much as James shared about himself, he had always suspected that he was too humble for his own good. Iker proved him right.

Toni listened to story after story and found himself filled with a kind of warmth that he couldn’t explain at first. It took him half the evening but he eventually worked out that it was pride. Pride that he could call this beautiful boy his own.

Meanwhile, James blushed like a beetroot next to him and attempted to brush off every compliment that was fired his way. He eventually succeeded in switching the subject, and talk turned to time-marks.

“So,” Sergio asked slowly, “and I recognise that this is a personal question, so don’t answer it if you don’t want to – but exactly how old were you when your time-mark appeared?”

It was still a peculiar experience for Toni, talking openly about time-marks and soul-mates. When his wrist was still bare, people refrained from bringing the subject up around him. He suspected it was out of pity, and the pity used to drive him _mad_ ; madder than his bare wrist.

“No, it’s absolutely fine. I was thirty when it appeared. Still am.”

“And what was it like, beforehand?”

Toni shrugged. “Nothing extraordinary. I was working and travelling.”

“And now? How much has your life changed?”

Toni thought about his answer for a long time. “There’s no easy answer to that. In some ways, it’s changed completely. In others, it hasn’t really changed that much at all.”

James nodded in thoughtful agreement. “Yeah. Same for me actually, now that I think about it.”

Sergio leaned back in his seat and looked from one to the other, intensely curious. “How do you mean?”

It was something that Toni thought about a lot, most often when he was alone or when James was asleep next to him. James was something new, something completely different – but by the same token, he hadn’t turned Toni’s life upside down at all.

A lifetime of bad advice and shitty poetry and terrible movies had left Toni with the impression that a life lived alone was a life lived in black and white, and that a soulmate was colour. But that had never been the case for him, because there was colour in his life long before James arrived. He found colour in his friends, in Felix, in a decent coffee and a good book, and on a good day, in his job. When James arrived, he didn’t bring colour with him, but he sharpened the colour that was was already there.

“My grandmother used to have this saying about soul-mates.” Toni began slowly. “She said that a soul-mate is like salt. Sometimes you have a dish that’s almost perfect, but you get the sense that it’s still missing something. Finding a soul-mate is like adding salt to the dish. It’s only a small change, and for the most part, the dish remains the same, but it’s like a better version of itself. Does that make sense?”

Iker nodded. “Yeah, it does. My father used to say something similar, actually.”

“I think it’s more true for the two of us than most people,” James added pensively. “Neither of us was particularly young when we met.  We had pretty full lives.”

“It must feel good though, not having to wait anymore.” Sergio observed.

James nodded, twirling a loose thread from a cushion around his finger. “Yeah, it does, but I think a part of it never really goes away. You spend so long waiting that it almost becomes a part of you, because you’ve spent more time waiting than anything else. Finding a soulmate doesn’t wipe that experience away – and to be honest, you kind of don’t want it to.” 

Sergio and Iker seemed confused by the statement. On the other hand, Toni understood perfectly, even though he and James had never discussed the subject between themselves.

“I think what James means is that while neither of us were happy about all the waiting that happened, we don’t really resent the fact that it _did_ happen. There are good things that come out of it. It gives you thick skin, for one.”

James looked to him and smiled gently.

“And it makes you appreciate things more, when you finally get them.” He added.

Iker nodded thoughtfully.

“I think I get what you mean. Sergio and I met young, and we barely knew ourselves at that point. We spent the first three years of our relationship arguing.”

“We never really stopped arguing.” Sergio pointed out, jabbing him in the shoulder. “Even in our old age.”

“Well, old age or not, you two look at each other like teenagers.” Toni offered.

And they did. They looked at each other with a warmth that was infectious. Toni quickly came to understand why James spent so much time in their company.

“You two look at each other like teenagers as well.” Sergio grinned. “Or have you not noticed?”

* * *

The first time Toni felt like James needed him – really _needed_ him – came on a nondescript Tuesday evening.

Toni and James saw each other regularly, but regularly soon became daily. The only interruption to this emerging routine was Tuesday, when James covered the late shift at the hospital. He would start work at nine in the morning and finish at nine that night, and the next morning, he would have to be at the hospital by eight. At the end of those shifts, he would be utterly spent, and he needed to go home and sleep. Toni refrained from calling or messaging James on those nights, just in case he woke him up. If James had energy or time, he would call.

One Tuesday night, at half past nine, James did exactly that.

“James? Hey.”

“Hey. Are you busy?”

Something in the tone of his voice made Toni sit up with concern. It was much duller than usual, flat, and even though he had spent time with James after a particularly long day at work, he had never heard him speak in this particular tone.

“No. I’m not busy at all. I was reading. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve just finished work and it was a long shift … “

And then James broke off and sighed deeply, and didn’t finish the sentence.

“James. Are you sure you’re okay?”

”I’m fine, I swear. It’s just been hell at work today. One shitty case after another after another, and I barely had time to sit down. I just ... I wouldn’t mind your company right now.” He explained, exhaustion reverberating through every word. “Can I come over?”

“Are you seriously asking? I’ll see you soon. Have you had dinner?

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make something. Don’t rush over, okay? Drive slowly.”

In the thirty minutes it took for James to get from the hospital to his place, Toni made a quick spaghetti Bolognese and bought ice cream from the corner store at the bottom of his building.

James let himself in, and he smiled when he saw Toni, but it was weaker than normal. Toni pulled him close and kissed his tired eyes, and James relaxed against him, his tired body loosening for the first time that day.

“Shit, you _are_ tired.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“I’ve made you dinner.”

“I’m not sure I can eat.”

But he did anyway, ravenously, like he had been fasting for a month.

Toni sat with him at the kitchen table and listened as James ate and told him about his day: about the guy in the car crash; and the lady who needed emergency heart bypass surgery; and the string of other patients who were admitted with easier cases but difficult personalities.

Toni eventually cleared his plate and brought over the tub of ice-cream with two spoons, and by that point, James had changed the subject. He had moved on to raging about the hospital’s management and his general grievances with the bureaucracy of the health system, each of which came to a head during days like this. And even though he had worked for twelve straight hours, and even though he was exhausted, James was _livid_ – and this was one of the things Toni loved most about him. James was never too tired to get angry about something that he felt to be deserving of his rage.

Eventually, he talked himself out. Toni made him a camomile tea, filled him in on his own day, and then took him to bed.

James showered and changed into a fresh pair of Toni’s pyjamas. He crawled into bed and stretched, humming contentedly as his aching bones slackened against the sheets.

“Sorry for being such shitty … company … tonight,” he apologized, sleep already lurking at the end of the sentence.

By the time Toni opened his mouth to reply, James had dozed off and had begun snoring lightly. Toni smiled to himself and climbed in next to him, book in hand. He read three chapters, and the number of words that registered in his mind from each one was precisely zero.

Because one of his biggest fears had been needing James more than James would need him. But that night, just before he fell asleep, Toni laid that fear to rest.

* * *

Slowly, quietly, they began the process of weaving themselves into each other’s lives. It happened over a hundred little actions that taken individually meant nothing, but when taken together, meant a lot. The pieces of their lives remained the same – their habits, their likes and dislikes, the things that drove them up the wall – none of these things changed. But both James and Toni began to move these pieces around, shifting them here and there to accommodate the other, and they didn’t notice themselves doing it.

The realization came to them in small bursts during ordinary moments. It came when Toni spent the night at James’ house and had a different suit in the closet than the one he had arrived in the night before. It came when James realized that Toni always kept a six-pack of his favourite beer in the fridge, even if Toni himself would sooner give up drinking than let it pass through his lips. It came when Toni watched _El Clásico_ with Sergio because Iker and James were both at work, and when Sami began calling James if he couldn’t find Toni at his own place.

Eventually, there was a copy of James’ roster in Toni’s office, and a copy with his secretary; and there was a copy of Toni’s schedule stuck on the inside of James locker. James began sleeping over at Toni’s during the weeks that he pulled night-shifts, because the curtains in Toni’s bedroom shut out daylight better than his ones at home. He also made sure to be around the week before a publication deadline, because Toni needed reminders to eat and sleep in those weeks. James floated the idea of starting German classes, and Toni floated the idea of planning a trip to Colombia to visit James’ family.

They weaved themselves into each other’s lives till eventually, they split their time equally between both their homes. Then they started thinking seriously about finding a new place of their own. People began to refer to them in the same breath, as _JamesandToni_ , and they started thinking about themselves in that way as well.

Bit by bit, the last remaining dregs of the anxiety and fear that had struck them on that Monday morning withered away, and disappeared completely. They were left with a row of zeroes on each of their wrists, a sense of home in each other, and a sense of completion in themselves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. GUYS. It's DONE. ARGH. As happy as I am to finish this fic, and despite all the hair-pulling it induced, I'm going to miss writing it so much. IDK. This fic is my baby. 
> 
> But most of all - more than anything - thank YOU. Thank you for reading and leaving Kudos and comments. You guys have given me more warm fuzzies throughout the course of this fic than I deserve. I cannot tell you how much it means to me, and how much it kept me going when the writing got hard. Thank you thank you thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos, comments, cookies, or con-crit welcomed and appreciated ^_^


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